Chasing Taboo

It was a bustling night in Second Circle. Pedestrians passed with their knock-off handbags, hobos were tucking themselves into their cardboard beds, a couple of street hustlers were trying to make their day’s pay, and cheap yellow light exposed the interior of the aged Shooting Star Diner. Olivia was there waiting, her arms folded, sipping a glass of water.

“Will you move!?” said Wildcard, shoving Ace out of the way of the window. “I can’t see.”

Ace shoved him back. “Fuck you, bitch, now I can’t see.”

“Is he there yet?” asked Seneka, looking around Ace’s shoulder.

“No,” said Stone. “He’ll show up, he’s only a couple minutes late.”

Seneka and the boys perched on top of the closed dumpster, peeping inside. Stone looked at his roommates as they crowded around his shoulders.

“Uh, guys?”

They looked at him.

“What are y’all doing here?”

Seneka smiled. “What, you honestly thought I wasn’t gonna tell them about this?”

The ‘this’ to which Seneka was referring was Stone’s childish attempt to bring Olivia and Hero together. After Stone had asked Olivia what she wanted to do, she had told him she needed time to think, so they agreed to meet at the Shooting Star Diner a few days later. Meanwhile, cunningly, he had told Hero that a new supplier insisted on meeting the boss before doing business with the Blades. Stone didn’t think every resident of 912 Branden would be so interested in his matchmaking scheme, but apparently they were.

“This was a dumb fuckin’ idea,” said Wildcard, trying to keep his feet stable on the dented dumpster lid. “Hero gonna take one look in that restaurant, see O, and fuckin’ bolt.”

“No, he won’t,” said Ace. “Hero got class—he’ll at least go in there and tell her we was playing games.”

“Exactly,” said Stone. “Which means he gotta—oh shit, there he is—be quiet!”

Hero parked on the street right in front of the restaurant, and the crew went dead quiet. He slammed the door shot, clicked it to lock, and casually made his way to the steps leading toward the entrance. Once he had reached toward the door, he froze, cut a crease between his brows, and took a long minute to stare inside. His expression transcended from utter bafflement to cold, dirty realization.

Wildcard started to snicker, so Seneka hit him in the chest.

Mixer looked at Ace. “You think he gonna run?”

Ace raised his hand. “Nah, he’ll go in. Give him a second.”

“He gonna fix up his hair,” giggled Wildcard. “He gonna fuss with his hair, and I’m gonna laugh when he does it.”

Seneka gave him a warning look. “You better not.”

Hero turned away from the window and put his palms on his lower back. He looked down, exhaled through pursed lips, and right on cue, he brushed his hair back and arranged it neatly over each side of his face.

Wildcard snickered and Seneka elbowed him.

Hero looked up, took another breath, and straightened his posture. For a moment, he looked like he was going to turn around, but he didn’t. He tightened his jaw, returned his hands to his back, and looked down again. He glanced backward for a second, but then returned to his pensive stance.

Mixer looked to Stone. “Wait, is he—”

“Fuck,” said Ace. “Look.”

Two guys, tattooed and a bit scraggly for their 20-something years, were in Olivia’s face. They didn’t look friendly and Olivia didn’t look responsive. She sat straight up, her hands far from her water, and she looked down at the table. The boys were trying to talk to her, but she didn’t offer the slightest fragment of a reply.

“Fuck, who are those guys?” whispered Seneka. “They ain’t Blades, is they?”

“Nah, I don’t know them,” said Stone. “Just a couple drunk fools, looks like. Probably trying to get a date.”

One of the guys reached for her arm. She jerked it away.

“Should we go in?” asked Mixer.

“No,” said Stone. “We go in, we ruin my plan. Stay down.”

Hero was still standing there, his back to the restaurant, tapping his finger on his lips.

“She might get hurt, Stone,” stressed Seneka. “We gotta go in there.”

One of the guys, a bleach-blond with a pierced eyebrow, was standing behind Olivia, running his hands through her hair. She jerked her head out of his grasp.

“Come on, Hero,” mumbled Stone. “Turn around.”

But he didn’t turn around. His face was haggard with worry, and for a good, long, second, it looked like he was about to turn back for his car.

Ace turned toward Stone. “Oh, fuck, you don’t think he’s gonna leave, do you?”

Mixer elbowed him. “You was the one who was sayin’—”

Eyebrow had a firm grip on Olivia’s arm. He was pulling her out of her booth, and the harder she pulled away, the more his raven-haired companion sitting at the end of her table laughed.

Stone’s fists clenched. “Come on…”

“They gonna hurt her,” pleaded Mixer. “And Hero ain’t turning round, Stone.”

Black-hair was pushing his hand down Olivia’s body, heading between her legs. The few others in the restaurant, one couple and a few scattered patrons, were starting to pay attention.

Mixer’s voice lifted in pitch. “Stone, she—”

“Wildcard,” said Stone. “You armed?”

“Yessir,” affirmed Wildcard.

“Alright,” sighed Stone. “That fuck makes one more move, you go in. Me and Ace will back you up. Mixer, stay with Seneka, okay?”

Mixer nodded.  “Sure, but what about He—”

Olivia stood up and moved for the door, but Eyebrow pulled her back by the straps of her dress. And punched her across the face.

“Dub C—move!”

Wildcard pulled out his Glock, hopped off the dumpster, and went for the entrance, Hero turned around, and Eyebrow had slammed Olivia’s face onto the table. Wildcard made it inside, Ace and Stone were his jet trails, but they were too late. Too late to be of much use, anyway.

Hero came in just in time to see Olivia twist out of Eyebrow’s grasp, dodging a second punch from Dark-hair. She bent forward, impacted Eyebrow with her elbow, and in the second of confusion, managed a firm kick to the leg of Dark-hair’s chair. The leg snapped, forcing his face into the table with enough velocity to tease out blood.

She grasped the dismembered leg, and with a smooth swing of her arm, she staked Eyebrow in the chest like a vampire. As he sloppily fell backward, weeping with the unendurable fury of his agony, she lifted the leg high in the air, and shoved it deep into the shoulder of her dark-haired opponent. He screamed in pain. He twitched in pain. And a puddle of blood collected on the floor.

“Fuck you!” shouted Olivia, twisting the wooden stake.

Wildcard pistol-whipped Eyebrow across the face, letting the gun-point pin him still, and after these few brief seconds of fury, there was a long moment of calm.

Olivia looked up. Hero. Seneka. Mixer. Ace. Wildcard. And Stone. All there. Standing. Staring.

Olivia looked at Stone. “If I’m going to hang out with you guys,” she said, tossing him the bloody wooden stump, “I need a gun.” She caught her breath, looked at Hero, and wriggled a little to straighten her dress.

There were six pairs of eyes pointed straight at her, their brains clearly still trying to process the obscene display of Olivia’s vicious temper. When she saw the blood on her arms, she tucked them into her body, embarrassed. She shrugged a little, giving a bashful half of a smile.

Hero’s mouth was open, and his eyes were as wide as he could hold them. His body had hardened into a poised, upright rock, every muscle too petrified to respond to any command his brain had to give. His anger was so downright visual that Stone could have sworn he saw cartoon fury lines emanating from his body. He didn’t know who his boss was going to lash out at first—the douche bags on the ground or his own crew.

Hero ran across the floor, kicking Dark-hair out of the way before he took either side of Olivia’s face into his hands. He ran his thumb across her right brow.

“Chag’ya,” he whispered. “You’re bleeding.”

“Um, what? I’m fine, I—”

“No, you’re not fine,” he said. “Look at you. Look what they did to you.” He took a pile of money out of his wallet and put it on the table, a foot shy of the blood puddle. “Stone, see if you can call somebody to clean the trash out of this nice man’s restaurant. I gotta take care of my chag’ya.”

“Sure, hy’ung.”

Hero turned around and gave Eyebrow a hard stomp to the nuts. He was crying, still gripping his bleeding chest.

“You dumb motherfucker,” said Hero, kneeling in front of him. “Do you not know where you are? Do you not know who she is?”

The boy bared his teeth, releasing a long, low, desperate cry.

Hero shoved his fingers into Eyebrow’s wound, twisting at the exposed muscle tissue. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Miss Olivia.’”

The boy twitched. “I—I—”

Hero twisted harder. “I ain’t playin’ with you—I could stand here all night long, now you better say it.”

“I’m sorry Miss Olivia!” he wept. “I’m-sorry-Miss-Olivia-please-stop-hurting-me!”

“And your friend…” Hero stood up and turned around. He wiped his bloody hand off on Dark-hair’s shirt. “Eh… I think your friend has lost too much blood to talk right now, but I’m sure he’s very sorry.”

Wildcard tilted his gun slightly. “Yeah, uh… I think he needs, like, a doctor.”

Hero put his arm around Olivia and walked her outside. “Come on.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you back to the house.”

 

After Olivia took a shower to wash off all the blood, Hero gave her a T-shirt and boxers to wear. She felt oddly aroused in his clothes, enjoying the sensation of the soft cotton fabric against her skin. It was the softest thing she had ever worn, warm and cuddly, giving her a hug as it dangled against body.

Hero pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. “Have a seat.”

She did, and he pulled up next to her with a cotton swab, wiping some excess blood from her wounded forehead.

“So, what?” She turned her face toward him. “You aren’t gonna give me some speech about staying out of the Grove?”

“No. I give up. Hold still.”

She looked away. “Um…” She tried to look at him with her eyes without turning her head. “Stone told me the whole truth about Kai’lah. That must have been really horrible for you. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He feigned a peaceable smile. “Don’t listen to him. He probably made me sound like some kind of saint.”

“Don’t worry. I still think you’re an asshole.” She watched the focus in his eyes as he treated her wound. “But that’s okay. I like a good movie where I can root for the bad guy.”

Hero chuckled. “What if I’m not the bad guy? What if I’m the hero?”

Olivia’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, Hero, was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?” She laughed. “A Twilight reference and a pun? Ladies and gentlemen, mark your calendars, it’s officially Hero-made-a-joke-day, we may never see such a thing again, this is truly a moment in history—echh—ow!”

“Will you hold still?” He was dabbing disinfectant onto her cut. “I’m going to put a small band-aid on this and you gonna look like a boxer. Good luck explaining this to your parents. They probably going to think I beat you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll tell them you only do it because you love me.”

Hero pressed the bandage onto her face. “There. Good as new. Kinda.”

Beep.

They shared awkward giggle, and for no reason in particular, she looked down at the floor. It was like the track of their interaction had ended, but there was no station at which to exit. The train just stopped, and she wasn’t sure whether or not to wait for it to move on its own or if she was supposed to ask someone for help. So she just sat there and waited for him to do something.

He took her hand and lightly ran his thumb across the back of it. He looked at her hand carefully, almost as if studying it, but it was more likely that he was studying whatever was going on in his mind.

“Why did you break the chair leg?” he asked, zapping from la-la land to the moment. “Why didn’t you just wait for us to come get you? You saw we were coming in.”

“Do I look like the damsel in distress type to you?”

He laughed. “No, not really.”

He slowly lifted her hand, and brought the back of it to his cheek. As his skin met hers, he gave a long sigh, as if relieved. As if letting go.

“I don’t apologize about things,” he said. “It’s not that I’m a dick, it’s just I don’t see the point—everything I’ve ever done, no matter how fucked up it was, I had a reason. Looking back is a waste of energy, and every good commander has gotta make sacrifices.” He looked up at her in vicious, sudden way, pushing his intentions deep into her eyes, pinning her into the moment with him. “But I don’t ever want to have to make a choice like that again. I don’t have it in me. I don’t think I can do it again. I think it might break me.”

His voice went lower, dropping itself into graveness. “I would rather die, or spend the rest of my life alone, than ever have to make a choice like that again. Do you understand?”

Beep.

She took control of the hand he had taken from her, running her thumb across his cheek below his eye, following the almond shape. “You won’t have to. I promise.”

She stood up to move closer, lowered her face to his, and kissed plush lips, tasting the warmth and sadness. His desire was budding from woe, projecting a fiery yet miserable invitation.

He kissed her right back, hard, pulling her closer to his body by her hips and hungering all the more for the sensation of his hands on her skin.  Placing his knees on either side of her bared legs, he moved his hands up the bottom of the cotton tee he had given her, enveloped between heavenly soft fabric and delicious feminine flesh.

When she parted from his mouth, it took him some time to open his eyes again. The look on his face made Olivia’s heart ache, like a sad movie. You know it will depress you epically, but it’s so well done you have to watch it the whole way through.

She touched his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Beep.

He kissed her again, grunting a bit before putting pressure to her mouth, and with his instincts getting the best of him, he was tugging onto her shirt. She parted from his mouth briefly to suck in a breath, only to latch back on immediately after, running her hands through his hair. She pulled on it, and she pulled on it hard enough to hurt him. He moaned.

He gently pushed her away from him, and as he looked upon her lust-bitten face, he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. She kissed it as it passed.

He gulped. “I’m gonna go put your dress in the dryer.” He tapped her butt to signal that it was time to get off his lap. She backed off, and he stood up to walk away.

Before he left the room, he looked back at her. “Come back Monday night, and we can go get you a gun.” He made his exit.

Olivia sat in his chair, arms folded, wondering if it was possible for a female to get blue balls.

Olivia didn’t ask where Hero was taking her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious, more that there was no point in asking. She was going wherever he wanted, like she always had, and she didn’t have a choice.

 “Stick by me,” he said. “This is gonna be a rowdy place.”

“What, you don’t buy guns at like, a gun store?”

“Nope,” said Hero. “No sense in buying guns the legit way, considering what we use them for. We go through a freelancer, when she gets supplies she holds these gatherings where we can all come to buy.”

“Like… a Mary Kay party?”

“A very hardcore Mary Kay party, yeah.”

Olivia snickered. “I wonder how many .22s you have to sell to get your Perfect Start pin.”

Hero laughed.

“It’s funny to me that your weapons dealer is a girl.”

“I don’t know if I would call Falynn a girl. She’s more like… you’ll see.”

It was a long walk from the garage to their actual destination. They came to a strip mall a little south of Second Circle, and based on the level of degradation, it was tricky to say whether or not it was abandoned. She followed Hero down a set of stairs to an underground hallway, and as they approached a loading door, muffled music increased in volume.

A black guy with tight cornrows and stylish color-coordinated athletic wear met the couple at the door.

“What the fuck, Hero?” he said, slapping hands and man-hugging him. “I was supposed to meet your upstairs, fool. You know you got protection down here, a’ight?”

“Olivia, this is Wildcard’s brother, Antwan. Antwan, this is Olivia.”

Wildcard was a skinny five-foot Asian dude. Antwan was a brawny six-foot black guy. Olivia had questions.

“Remember when I was telling you the difference between black guys and niggers?” said Hero. “This man is no nigger—a true gentleman.”

“Fuck you, I’m a nigga,” laughed Antwan. “Don’t front. Yo, I heard my boy’s fucking your sister. That nigga’s got balls—after what happened to Cyclops.”

Olivia looked at Hero. “What happened to Cyclops?”

Antwan chuckled. “Bitch, we call the man Cyclops—what you think happened to ‘im?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he called me a bitch.”

Antwan raised his fist to his mouth. “Oh snap, Hero, she got a mouth on her, too. Where you find her at?”

Hero looked Olivia. “Cyclops was a weird dude. His eyes didn’t focus right. And one day they were looking where they shouldn’t, so I had a freelancer deal with it.” He looked back at Antwan, a little apologetically. “I kinda had temper problems back then.”

Antwan put his arm around Hero as if presenting him to Olivia. “Nah, he just real protective of his sister, is all. This man gonna take good care of you, snow bunny, you better believe that. Now y’all go down to that side entrance, it’ll keep you away from the common folk, a’ight? I told Falynn you was comin’ and she’s pretty excited.”

Hero nodded and said his thanks, and led Olivia to the other door.

“Wildcard’s real parents abandoned him at a grocery store when he was three,” Hero explained. “Antwan’s family took him in, so that’s how he ended up at 8th Block. He doesn’t even remember his real name.”

He reached for the door handle.

“We’re gonna do business after the rush,” he said. “Alright?”

“The rush?”

He turned the handle and lifted the door.

Olivia was smothered by an ambush of noise, popping and rattling, shaking the crowd. There was a white spotlight on a center stage, a crowd hooting and hollering around it. A girl with long, blood red braids, baggy pants, and a black top that could barely be called a bra, stood there holding a machine gun up in the air.

“Y’all ready to buy some motherfucking guns!?”

The crowd cheered as she rattled off a few shots into the wall.

Two guys came up behind Hero, shook his hand, and closed the door behind him. With his hand on the small of her back, he guided Olivia through the space until he positioned them by conveyor belt near the mouth of the loading dock. They were just outside the excitement with a clear view.

The girl on the stage, whom Olivia had to assume was Falynn, was a fucking auctioneer. She spat out the specs on the gun as everybody on the floor called out bids. Pistols, shotguns, even knives were handed out from prices ranging from fifty bucks to a couple grand. A man at a desk was selling bullets and cartridges like a glow stick vendor at a concert.

“Um, Hero? Isn’t it a little dangerous to sell weapons this way?”

Hero just shrugged.

And, naturally, shots were fired.

“Shit!” Hero put his arm around her and they got under the conveyor belt. “I’m sorry, this never happens.”

She put her hands over her ears as more shots were fired. “How on Earth could this never happen!?”

A bunch of people hollered and ducked, but they didn’t rush to the door as one would expect. Falynn hopped off the stage with her knees bent back and her braids flying through hair as if in slow motion before she slapped the floor with a vicious thud. It was as if she could smell the shooter—she went right for him, shoving him onto his back, his gun going for a long slide.

One of her boys found the pistol, pulled the clip out, and handed her the empty piece. As the crowd gave her room to work, she proceeded to annihilate the asshole, shattering his face with every hard throw of his gun, cracking across his cheeks. She leaned over him, and at first, Olivia thought Falynn was kissing the minced meat that was once a face. After a few seconds, she looked up, her face to the ceiling, and spit a series of tiny objects into the air. One after the other, like a fountain.

Olivia felt sick. They were the guy’s teeth.

Hero guided Olivia back onto her feet. “That’s how.”

When the madness died down, Hero and Olivia were guided up a set of metal stairs up to a series of abandoned offices. They were told to wait in a plain, white room with a cheap folding table a few chairs. The fluorescent lights were flickering.

Eventually, Falynn and an assistant came in with a couple suitcases. Falynn plopped her case down on the table with cheerful bounce.

“Hero!” She jumped onto his body like a baby koala and licked the side of his face. “Mmm! You still taste like vanilla ice cream.”

“Ugh, Fal,” said Hero, pushing her back. “You still got blood on your mouth.”

She jumped off him with a giggle and wiped his face. “You know you like it, you sick fuck.” She looked at Olivia. “So does he still make those squeaky noises when he comes? Oh… don’t stop… don’t… ugh!”

“Falynn!”

“What? I’m only trying to make your girlfriend terribly, horribly uncomfortable.” She looked at Olivia. “He likes it rough. Make him bleed, he can’t get enough.”

Olivia showed no signs of distress. She wasn’t going to let this girl win this.

“Can we just buy our guns and get the fuck out of here?” asked Hero.

“No, we can’t. We gotta talk.”

“About what?”

“About you being a total asshole. What the fuck is wrong with you? First you set fire to Benny on 3rd—”

“He deserved it. He was stealing from us.”

“—then Dub C kicks a B&T boy’s ass outside the club for feeling up Senny, now you get this white tuna on your arm, and I heard you slammed Crash into your counter in front of Om’bai. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m taking care of business. Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m worried about you. It seems like you care more about proving a point than taking care of your business or your family.”

“What, are the Dragons talking shit?”

“You know I can’t go into that. I stay on top of my business by staying out of gang wars, you know that. I’m a business woman, and I am gonna get you what you need, but ever since that Kai’lah drama went down and you took care of those white boys, your shit is on the news. The five-oh north of the freeway know when you act up now, and I’m not gonna let you fuck with me just because you can’t keep your gangster-dick in your pants.”

“I got it under control.”

“Apparently you don’t, because Crash is out there somewhere and you don’t know where—he’s missing a toe, and he’s pissed off.”

“You know where he is?”

Falynn crossed her arms. “You know I can’t tell you that. But if you go after Crash, please, just hire the Shank, alright? Quick, simple, easy.”

Falynn went to the other side of her table and opened her suitcase. “I got Dub C’s clip—will you tell him to stop dropping his shit everywhere? Honestly? This isn’t a goddamn action movie, clips cost money. And I got you this.” She laid a Desert Eagle onto the table. “You want it?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Ooh, I do,” said Hero, picking up the gun.

Falynn smirked. “If it’ll make your dick feel big, there ya go. It’s all yours. Fifty caliber, holds seven rounds.”

“What’ll it set me back?”

“Free of charge. Consider it an early birthday present.”

“You sure?”

“What can I say? I’m a giving person. I also got that crossbow for you.”

Olivia looked at Hero. “Why do you need a crossbow?”

Hero didn’t miss a beat. “Because it’s quiet.”

Olivia was having trouble trying to figure this girl out. Falynn wasn’t Asian, not really, anyway. In fact, Olivia couldn’t figure out what her ethnicity was. He tan was so dark and pronounced, she could have passed for half-black, but the shape of her eyes definitely had a far-east flavor to it. That said, her nose and mouth were totally Anglo. Racially speaking, she was impossible to categorize.

Hero snapped his clip into place. “I’m gonna take this baby for a test drive.”

He headed toward the door and Olivia started to follow.

“No, you stay here,” he said. “I don’t want you around open fire again.”

“Hero! Come on.”

“No, you stay here with Falynn.”

Falynn winced. “You want to leave me alone with her? You sure about that?”

“Yes, get her fitted with something nice, please,” he said. He looked at Falynn with grave seriousness. “Be nice.” He gave Olivia a look that repeated the message and left the room.

Falynn plopped a tiny black gun out onto the table.

“Sig Sauer Mosquito. Small grip, tiny bullets. You’ll like it. Go nuts.”

“What, you don’t think I can handle something bigger?”

“No.”

Falynn picked up another automatic, something silver and heavy, and started to strip it down. She was cleaning it, most likely getting it ready for another customer.

“You don’t like me,” observed Olivia.

“No,” said Falynn, beginning to reassemble the piece. “I don’t.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“I know all about you.” She loaded bullets into her magazine. “And your little escapades at Club Lanka—Hero’s desk, Ace’s bed and otherwise. You’re bridge-and-tunnel trash, trying to make it in the hood. There were plenty before you and there will be plenty after.” She snapped a clip into the gun. “And the story doesn’t have a happy ending, my dear.”

“Hey,” Olivia snapped. “You can’t talk to me that way.”

Falynn snickered, peeking through the sights. “I can talk to you any way I want, snow bunny.”

Olivia twisted her mouth. “God, what do I have to do, pimp trafficked whores or kill people to get taken seriously down here?”

Falynn, still armed, picked up the gun and fired four rounds above Olivia’s head. Pow, pow, Olivia fell forward, crouching as bullets spat deafening noise and plugged the wall, pow, pow. Olivia crunched her body into a trembling ball on the ground, hearing nothing but the murky aftershock of the ear-splitting blasts.

“You dumb little girl. You clearly know not with whom you are fucking.” Falynn put the gun down. “You better listen really carefully, because I’m only going to invest this much energy into talking to your stupid ass once.”

Olivia, her panic-stricken shaking now on decline, slowly lifted her body back upright.

“Contrary to the deluded impression you seem to be under,” explained Falynn, “your attitude is not cute. I have no idea what Hero likes about you, your bloomer pudding must taste like cookies and cream, I have no fucking idea. You think you’re better than he is because you were born north of the freeway, and once you’re done taking a spin on the Blades rollercoaster you think you can just get on your train, cross the Mason-Dixon line, and it’ll all go away. But the action you take down here will follow you home, wherever you go, you better believe it. Daniel is dead because of you, my pigment-challenged princess. How many skeletons do you think you’re gonna have in your closet before this is over?”

Falynn looked straight at Olivia, giving her a full clear view of her heartless grin. “You want to be taken seriously down here? Then have some respect. Hero went from hustling crack in the projects to running a million dollar operation and employing hundreds of immigrants with nothing but the rags on their backs and the desire to succeed. He gave people the chance to survive out of thin fucking air.” Falynn smirked and tilted her head. “What have you done with your life, snow bunny?”

Olivia sized up her opposition for a second, and then looked down at the Sig Sauer Mosquito.

“I would say that I’ll kill you if you hurt him,” said Falynn, watching the way Olivia eyed the pistol. “But I won’t have to.”

Olivia picked up the Mosquito. “I would say that I’m going to prove you wrong.” She felt the weight of the pistol in her hand. “But I don’t have to.”

Tags: Ace, Hero, Mixer, Olivia, Olivia's Point of View, Seneka, Stone, Stone's Point of View

This entry was posted on Monday, September 7th, 2009 at 8:15 am and is filed under The Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.