59.

The fall of Rome is something we don't talk about. Historical details are sketchy, and Rome's been sacked often enough that it's almost totally irrelevant. The books simply say that Rome went down (metaphorically speaking) and proffer the almost embarrassingly underwhelming event to the romanticists for some kind of literary redemption.

"Good luck," says Santiago.

"Fuck you," says Rome.

60.

Even for a job listing “Belief in afterlife a plus,” having an applicant die during the application process looks pretty bad.

Naturally, it’s difficult to officially pin these things, particularly on cute little boys (particularly ones with their fingerprints burnt off), but it’s not like no one suspects.

Two weeks into second grade, Manchester starts wearing a Jurassic Park backpack.

61.

Vienna makes her living on the lam. She swears more often now since the Elizabeth job backfired, and has officially given up public decency, like any bad habit. She left Marion with Manhattan alive, of all things, and is ironically superior to her ex-roommate at giving up regret.

The second she sees Phoenix - alive of all things - her heart maybe explodes.

62.

Cairo’s apprentices, they have this habit of dying young. Very young.

“Next.”

Applicant #217 is a brunette, 4’7’’, violet dress, whose one redeeming feature is a Jurassic Park backpack. Cairo cringes at the little-sister-type scenario, but, as an assassin, figures that everyone hitting on her could be pretty funny.

Of course, this is just planning ahead. But Manchester’s been getting cheeky lately.

63.

Fascinatingly enough, this time it’s really over. Tonight she means it. And there’s no tomorrow.

It’s like the 800th time an actor plays the tragic hero. He still has to believe it – that tonight he won’t die. Only he will die, and it’s getting 799 times harder to believe.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“I know,” says London.

(He never sees her again.)

64.

By the time the prince releases Rome – shiny new probational leash attached – Cairo’s already waiting, propped against the hood, looking bored, and incidentally not smoking (per local ordnance).

“You’re not arrested?” notes Rome.

“Technically I’m considered a victim.” Cairo looks disappointed. “Paris didn’t send you back to Hell?”

Rome points out an obnoxiously-colored billboard, which reads:

"WELCOME TO ALICIA: NON-EXTRADITION CAPITAL OF THE WORLD."

65.

He meets her sitting cross-legged on the bed, sipping something urine-colored from a beaker. Turns out to be apple juice and gin, which she politely offers him and which he less-than-politely declines. Her entire décor appears to be filched from a high school chem lab.

Brooklyn's problem is she knows too much, but she still lives with her parents, so he can't exactly kill her.