A girl sat at the bar, her legs crossed as she leaned against the polished counter and fiddled with her mojito. Her wild, poofy red curls drifted lazily across her field of vision as she peered into the minty, lime garnished refreshment. She'd been waiting for a quarter hour to meet with the detective, and couldn't say that the wait wasn't making her antsy. She could think of a great many things she'd rather be doing than sitting at the bar.

When a large hand settled against her waist, sliding forward to press fingers against her silky skin, she jumped a little, surprised. "Oh! Detective I didn't know it was this kind of meeti-" she began, until she noticed that the fingers pressed to her exposed midriff were not clawed. Looking down her eyes widened as she noticed deep-tanned, thick fingers she recognized.

"Hey, Cha. Good to see you again," came the rumbling, deep voice of her ex boyfriend, Taburnus, his heated breath washing across her neck in a way that made her lean into his grip. He was… familiar with her and to her, his hand squeezing just right as she barely managed to stifle her reaction to him.

"Tab, been a while," she gasped leaning away from him and further into the counter, as she turned her head and looked up, past her curls and into twinkling green eyes. The sharp chinned, square jawed grin that greeted her, was one she was all too familiar with. Her eyes roamed over his red skin, up to the black horns that protruded from his brow and swept back along with sleek, shiny, ravenwing locks. Taburnus was a sharp, powerful looking devil as always. His broad, rounded shoulders and thick arms made his size all the more apparent.

"I see you've been working out," she commented as she placed a comparatively little hand on the arm he had around her, gently pushing at it to hint that she didn't want him holding her. The gesture only managed to stroke his ego along with the statement as she found her hand dwarfed by his bicep. Looking from that arm to the defined barrel chest barely hidden by his stretched, Songs of Night T, she remembered very vividly why she'd been attracted at the beginning of their relationship. "What's it been? A year?"

"Eighteen months," he replied, easily, his smile not wavering as he continued to hold her, his hand shifting possessively down to her wide hips, where he settled it. With him standing over her at the bar, he completely dwarfed her, his stature and musculature obscuring her from the view of the majority of the bar. "You've been on my mind for all of them."

She averted her gaze, trying not to let his words get to her. Tab was charming, large, powerful and jealous. He was all of the many things she really wanted in a man. He also wasn't good for her. She knew this very well after years of on and off dating. "I'm flattered, Tab. Really am. I uh… I have a meeting tonight, though," she said, keeping her eyes off of his. She didn't want to be caught up in him. She knew him well enough, he wouldn't glamour her into doing what he wanted, he wouldn't force his magic on her. But he didn't need magic to get her lost in his eyes.

Just as she had that thought, she felt him move and knew she had somehow jinxed it. He caught her chin easily between his thumb and forefinger drawing her face and her gaze back where he wanted it, wanted her. Just like that she was lost, wandering forests of beautiful, lush green. She felt his grip on her shift, his fingers and palm cradling her face, his thumb brushing suggestively over the plump pout of her lower lip. Her lips parted at the suggestion as he drew closer. She put up her hand placing it on his chest, but it did nothing to stop him, nothing to dissuade him, not even for a second. She could feel his heat on her lips again, feel his grip on her hip tightening as he readied himself to take her.

"Ahem," came the gruff clearing of a man's throat. "Mocha Te Bottsu?"

The interruption shattered the moment for both of the ex lovers. Taburnus frowned and took his eyes off of her, turning to see who had spoken, and she managed to pull free of his palm, turning on her stool to look at the newcomer. Both of their gazes fell on the handsome muzzle of a tall, lycan man in a lengthy gray coat covering what the girl could only assume was a uniform. He seemed on the older side of the boat to Mocha, maybe in his late 40s.

"Who are you?" Taburnus asked, his tone dark as he stood to his full, daunting 7 foot height, looming far over the heads of everyone else in the bar. He flexed, his body bulking as he glared down at the wolf. Mocha knew if she didn't step in, things would get out of hand really quickly.

"I'm Detective Daren J. Mulner, Neo Denver PD, Detective I, Mr. Henderson," the man said calmly, raising one of his brows in bemused interest. "Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but Mocha and I have a meeting, and I'm a bit late, so we're short on time."

Tab looked between Mocha and the man then back to Mocha, leaning in on her, his hand resting on the counter to block her off from the wolf's view. "I'll catch you later, Cha. Don't get too friendly while I'm gone," he said, before turning and walking off, pushing a smaller man out of his way as he headed toward a side exit to the Tavern.

Mocha looked after him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide as she slowly mastered herself, sighing and turning to meet the detective. "Hey. Sorry about that Detective Mulner," she said, sure to exude apologetic intent in her words and demeanor as she held out a dainty hand to shake, "I didn't expect Taburnus to show up."

"Not a problem," the detective replied, reaching out and taking her hand in his paw, his claw tipped fingers wrapping around her hand to give a firm shake. "Boyfriend, I take it?" He asked, looking to the door the man had just exited through.

"Ex," she corrected, looking away embarrassed.

"His choice or yours?" the wolf asked, digging into the topic.

"Uh… mine," she said, looking up and frowning as they disengaged hands.

He seemed to catch her discomfort and his ears pinned back as he apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's part of my job to dig for information and I have a bad habit of doing it outside of work too," he said, his tone sheepish and apologetic. "Lets focus on the topic at hand."

Sitting at the bar the wolf snapped to get the waiters attention. "Stout and some chips, son. A second round for my friend while you're at it," he growled, and the tender nodded, moving to the order. Mocha raised an eyebrow, re-crossing her legs as she observed the man's display. Either he was familiar with the bar, or he was used to being bossy. Either way, she wasn't particularly impressed, but she listened as he started talking.

"We don't normally take up civilian contracts, as you were likely guessing. But this isn't a standard case," he started off, taking up his stout as Mocha returned to her Mojito, sipping the refreshing beverage through her straw with a slight nod, stifling her urge to appreciate its flavor audibly. "This witness has provided substantial proof that they have a lead on the origin of the Ignition, or at least details on the organization nearest to discovering its location," he continued, leaning in only slightly to remain inconspicuous.

Mocha nearly dropped her glass, eyes widening as she processed what she'd just heard. The Ignition was an event that had happened decades before her birth. A massive surge of energy now known as mana had bled into the earth, splitting continents as it caused new growth, new life, and mutations to form on the surface of the planet. A world once devoid of magic was now flooded with the stuff.

The influx of mana had changed the way the world worked. People who were powerless suddenly became super powered monsters. Timid recluses stepped out into the light of day with draconic powers and an appetite for flesh. The world as humanity had known it had changed overnight, and when the blood had settled and new leadership had taken the earth by storm, life had continued, as it always did.

What the detective was saying was that whomever this witness was had some clue, or valid hint on a way to find the place where everything began, the core of magic on the planet. Finding that nexus of magical power, making contact with it, there was no telling what exactly such a thing would do. Mocha was very interested in this information as well, though even knowing it, she found herself perplexed.

"Okay… let's say I believe you," Cha proposed, putting her drink down on the table as the tender set down her fresh drink, leaving both glasses for her to enjoy at her leisure. "I'm an arms dealer. I make weapons. You and your chiefs know this. Why are you hiring me? This is a matter of na-" she caught herself before she screwed up and used some choice words that would get her in trouble. "This is a high clearance, need to know kind of thing, isn't it?"

The wolf looked at her with an approving smirk, his eyes betraying how pleased he was that she'd caught on. "We're hiring you because the witness specifically requested that you be their liaison when dealing with the pd, otherwise they will be withholding the information," he explained, his tone even and his eyes seeming to search hers for any information.

Mocha’s eyes widened at his explanation, her confusion evident on her face. "They asked for me?"

"Yes. They said you were the only person they would trust with the information."

"... Okay… I take it we're negotiating pay, then?" Mocha said, switching the topic to give herself a little time to process that information. Who did she know and trust well enough that they would trust her with matters of global security? Who among her many contacts would pick her of all people to confide in. She couldn't think of anyone.

"We're willing to salary you a solid 500 large, with an additional 250 to agree. The money's yours regardless of the length of their stay so long as we can get that information," the man said, calm as ever. It was mildly unnerving for Mocha to see someone so unaffected by the circumstances surrounding them. Had she been in his position, she would have been dying of curiosity. Yet he sat before her, unabashed, unperturbed, and uninterested.

"I take it this means I can expect cooperation from the police with regards to their housing and needs," she asked the detective, looking at him with a grim seriousness on her face. She was not willing to let them turn what money they promised to 'pay' her into a stipend for babysitting. She wanted that money and she wanted it for keeps.

"Of course. We are offering our full support during their time with you," he nods, the gravel never really leaving his voice. The detective seemed like a man who was regularly rough on his larynx.

As his strips of fried potato arrived, she sighed and had a look around herself, and around the bar. Most of the people in the tavern wouldn't fit the description of shady, most simply looking like regular civilians. Some wore long coats, but they sat in very open positions, showing off their bodies as they wined and dined with their companions. She didn't know where the back-up officer was, though she knew no detective in Neo Denver would do such an important meeting without one. Turning back to him, she sighed.

"If you don't mind, I think I'm going to hit the bathroom real quick," she said with a sigh, moving to stand. She received only a nod in reply, the detective picking up one of his sizzling, greasy treats and popping it into his muzzle with a dangerous snap.

Stepping away from the bar, Mocha slipped past the tables and toward the neon sign displaying a cowgirl cow girl over an old, blackwood door. Pushing her way into the bathroom, Cha didn't even notice the heavy perfume in the room, or the fluorescent lighting. She was too far in her own head to actually pay attention to her surroundings.

Leaning on the counter, her palms resting on the cold, hard rim of the sink as she tried to straighten out her mind. Who was this witness with information on the origin of the Ignition? How did they know her, and why were they so desperate to get into contact with her now? How did they think she could help them more than the police?

The onslaught of questions in her head only intensified as she tried to get a hold on what was going on. Turning on the cold water, she splashed herself, slapping her cheeks as she tried to get her fevered mind under control. With the frigid tap water running down her puffy cheeks, she took a moment and looked at herself. Contacts made her look a bit less young, something she had difficulty with in bars when she was as short as she was. She’d had her ID scrutinized and back checked a number of times already in her adult life. But she still felt weird without her glasses on.

The woman staring back at her was an adorable redhead with big, baby blue eyes that had long , dark lashes. She had a pronounced pair of beauty marks, little matching discolorations under her eyes that her few friends insisted she painted on. A cute little button nose sat above a cupid's bow that pouted into a plump lower lip over her slight, rounded chin. The expression on that pretty face wasn't one she liked, but she couldn't say she wasn't used to it.

She was stressed. The nervous eye movements, her shaky grip on the sink, the tremble in her lower lip. She looked like a mess, and that wouldn't do. She was in front of a detective, being asked to do a job for a fabulous amount of money. She just needed to calm down, walk out there and tell that handsome wolf that she would take his money and get the job done. The rest would sort itself out. Repeating that to herself inside of her head, she looked into her reflection’s eyes and nodded.

Standing up, she hugged her own slender frame, rubbing her sides. Then she bounced from one foot to the other, her sneakers squeaking on the tile as she got herself psyched back up. "I've got this. No worries. This is just another gig," she said to herself in her head. Reaching up she gave each of her rosy cheeks another slap before reaching over to the paper towel dispenser and pulling out a sheet to dab her face dry.

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Once she was done cleaning up, she stepped back out into the bar, feeling refreshed and a bit more prepared to give this potential payday a chance.

Slipping past tables and back to the bar, she found the detective still munching, his stout half gone as he enjoyed his evening. The detective seemed like a simple, honest man to her, something that worried her, given his job description, but she sat back down all the same.

"Welcome back," he said after swallowing, giving her a smile. " Made your decision?"

"Where do I sign?" she asked, delivering a confident smirk of her own, her brow raising as he pulled out a black orb, the size of a jumbo marble. Holding it toward her, he indicated a subtle depression that she would have taken for a base.

"Biometric Sig. It's private and we won't put the sample on record. It'll simply be used as a reference if we have to go to court over the contract," he explained, answering her questions before she could ask them.

Hesitating a moment longer, she reached forward, pressing her index finger to the depression. There were a series of pinpricks on her fingertip and then a soft series of beeps. The black orb turned red and hissed. Then Detective Mulner pulled it away, stowing it in his pocket. "The money will hit your account within 15 minutes of your departure from here. We'll be contacting you through the email you supplied us to update you on a pickup location and time. Times are non-negotiable and absolute. Be there or you will find yourself in violation of our contract," he rattled off, relaxing and settling in to enjoy the rest of his potatoes.

As far as his demeanor spoke alongside his tone, the conversation was over. Rather than sticking around Mocha picked up and swigged the rest of her original mojito, taping the bar and turning to leave. At the end of the bar, she slipped on a lengthy white coat, the tails swinging with a defined weight as she covered herself.

Cinching the fabric tight around her waist as she headed for the door, she sashayed out into the night, though the night she stepped into was anything but dark. The streets of Neo Denver were bright, the neon and fluorescent signs keeping the blue pavement of Colfax visible. The marble walkways were littered with socializing couples and throuples.

"Mmm~ The night is for lovers," Mocha chuckled to herself, slipping out of the way of a group of elves as they strode down the path without a care in their minds, smoke trailing after them as they indulged in their chemical escapes. Mocha gave them a good few seconds headstart before following them down the road. Much as she supported people finding and embracing their own relief, she didn't particularly care for the smell.

Her heels clicked over the marble as she carried herself easily toward the Broadway strip, where she'd managed to secure her shop. She figured she would have to stop in and have a long talk with her employees about what to do in her absence over the next few months. As she walked, she was passed by countless vehicles of countless makes, kids and adults alike out to party in the streets of Neo Denver. Electric bikes and peds, classic gas powered pickups and cars, diesel trucks and buses, all passed her by as she wandered her way back down to the main road and took a left at the far corner.

As she made her way across the street she noticed a very familiar horned man waiting for her at the light, his muscular frame leaning against the large aluminum structure. She didn’t slow, continuing at an even pace, trying to move past Taburnus without acknowledging his obvious waiting for her. As she passed, however, he took her forearm, his hand far too large to simply take her own, and guided her around into a walk that continued down Colfax toward Broadway.

“Hey!” Mocha started, reaching for her coat’s secret pocket with her free hand, but a sharp noise from Tab cut off her protests and made her flinch, some almost forgotten part of her psyche surging back to life as the devil seized control of the situation. He caught her gaze again, vibrant blue meeting verdant green as the pair looked into one another again. The heat there, the desire that Tab pushed on her with his very being, it was intoxicating.

“Shush, Cha. We’re going for a walk. I’m going to talk, and this time, you’re gonna listen,” he growled, his voice like the rumbling of the earth as he guided her away from her shop, her destination. His grip on her arm was tight, almost numbing as he walked her down the road with him, mean mugging anyone who gave them a curious glance. It was the faces of passersbys that brought her back to herself, their worried gazes prying her from her own haze.

Yanking her arm away from Tab, she turned to him, stepping back when she saw that dangerous look in his eye. “Fine, Tab. We’ll talk. You can get it out and then I’m going. I’m on my way home from a long day,” she said, her hand now firmly in that pocket. Taburnus didn’t know what she had hidden there. He’d never cared enough to find out how serious she was about her business. She was just sex for him, his little love toy Cha, back then. Not anymore.

He glared for a moment longer before he nodded gesturing to the street, wanting to talk as they walked as far as she could tell. Mocha followed his gesture, stepping ahead of him so that he could talk. With their size difference, he had never been able to walk next to her, so he would keep her in front of him so as not to lose pace with her. It was their habit.

“Look, Cha I get it. I wasn’t the best guy for you when we were together,” he said, his voice washing over her as the two strode down the marbled pavement. “I was selfish with you and not thinking about what you needed. Just what I wanted from you. But you made me so happy. You made me feel powerful… You gave me something and I wanted more of it. I still want more of it. I was a wreck when you left. For months I was nuts over you.”

Mocha listened actively, nodding that she understood when he paused and keeping a steady pace so he wouldn’t have to slow down for her. “I went back to the gym, I put my mind on work. Everything, anything to get you out of my head. I don’t even know how many times I called your number,” he continued, his pace slowing. She matched him, lost in his story. It made her feel bad, regardless of the fact that he had hurt her, regardless of the times he had stepped out with some floosie or another, leaving her alone, regardless of the bruises he’d left on her body for weeks after he’d flown into a rage. She felt bad for hurting him.

“But nothing worked, Cha. Every time I looked around my old apartment I saw you. Food lost its taste, time seemed to drag and then speed up, everything was gray without you. The only solace was sleep. At least I could have you in my dreams,” he said, his footsteps slowing even further. “Everything else was hollow, cold. I even tried finding some other girl. Someone to fill that hole you left. It did nothing. Women did nothing. Alcohol does nothing! Working out does nothing!” His voice rose in volume and intensity, his frustration, his agony, evident in every word as the pair of them ended up near an alley crossing that bordered a parking garage.

Mocha turned to look at him to respond, yet as she turned he reached out and put a hand on her, she paused, both of them standing in what was an increasingly empty part of the road. “You took something from me, Cha. When you left, you took what was mine,” he said, his tone almost a growl. Before she could draw, his grip tightened and he pulled her smoothly to the side, into an alleyway.

Mocha’s eyes widened as she realized what was going on instantly. The story, the walk, his placement as he waited for her. Everything had been planned. It had all been a trap to get her alone, in a position where he could corner her. She gripped the handle of her gun, moving to draw before she felt her arm go slack, her mind going hazy as he backed her into the Alley, his magic working its way through her body. ‘Charm’, as it was called, was a minor devil compulsion many of the race shared among one another. It removed aggressive thoughts from a person, forcing them to behave kindly. For someone like Cha, it was a weak enough effect that she could recognize that it was working on her body, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

Before she could properly shake the effect, he had her back against the wall of the alley, his body completely shielding hers from view even as he held her by her throat. Mocha’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked him in his glowing green eyes seeing a spark of something dark and terrible behind the forest. “You are mine, Mocha. You belong to me. Your place is with me,” he said, his words soft now that their faces and bodies were so close. “And I’m gonna prove it to your body, your mind, your soul.”

Mocha couldn’t struggle as he moved in, couldn’t properly fight back as Tab kissed her. The union was electric, his red lips on hers again, had her tingling from her fingertips to her toes. Heat surged between them as his lips parted and her eyes fluttered closed. She smelled him, the subtle scent of burning wood, tasted the salty bitterness of his sweat and coffee as he pressed his broad tongue into her mouth. Her own tongues met his, mingling again as he reintroduced himself to her body with a satisfied groan. It was like he was a starving refugee tasting his first bite of cooked food in months.

What scared Mocha the most about the situation, more than his hand on her throat, or the free palm pressed firmly to her hip, was the fact that she moaned along with him. They had both been starving and Mocha did not like the implication that maybe he had been right, that she wanted this. When their lips finally parted, she shivered, suddenly cold with the lack of his presence against her. Letting her eyes bat open, she was caught in his gaze again. The hunger she found there was terrifying, violent and passionate.

Leaning lower, he dipped forward and kissed her neck, his voice rumbling into her body. “I’m going to let you go now, Mocha. You’re going to walk home and go nowhere else on the way,” he said. The game was simple. He was ordering her, if she obeyed he’d find a way to reward her. If she didn’t he’d p-. Mocha closed her eyes, stifling a gasp, as he nudged aside her coat and kissed lower on her neck, seeking out a sensitive place that they were both very familiar with on her body. Forcing her way past his charm left an almost lactic burn across her body, like she’d done explosive calisthenics, and it helped her pull away from that space in her mind that wanted him so badly.

“You are going to let me go, Tab,” Mocha repeated finally slipping her hand free of her pocket, fingers wrapped tight around the handle of an ivory, long barrel-ed pistol that she pressed muzzle first to his midsection, her expression turning fierce. “Then I’m going to go to my shop, and anywhere else I damn well please.” Her voice was a growl though it was cute in comparison to Tab’s own deep tones.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t even let his smile falter as he looked into her eyes and pulled his hand away from her throat. His smile broadened as he looked down, noticing the weapon now rested against his navel. “You can fight me for now, Cha. But I know you felt it in that kiss. I know you were ready to walk home for me. I know you, Cha, and you know that this isn’t over.”

“It is over, Tab,” she hissed, keeping the muzzle firm to his navel and her arm steady. “Now leave, or I will put a peep hole where your belly button used to be.”

“You won’t shoot me, Cha,” he said, confidently, even as he backed off his smile widening further as he looked at her. His gaze was predatory and playful in a way that almost gave Cha pause.

“She might not, but definitely I will, devil” came a high, lilting voice from the mouth of the alley, followed by the heavy, tell-tale ka-chack of a pump action sliding into service. Turning to look, both ex lovers were shocked to see a tall, blond, muscular woman with her hair tied back in tight braids leveling one of Mocha’s prototypes at her ex. “Now get moving.”

Tab’s smile faltered, his eyes gleaming dangerously for a moment as he flexed, seemingly wanting to fight it out. Yet he glanced back at Mocha and his demeanor evened out again. Stepping further from her he moved deeper into the alley, raising his hands. Mocha moved hurriedly toward her blonde friend, Jez, her barrel still aimed at her ex until the pair stood next to one another. Once she was safe, she stowed her pistol and watched as Jez safetied and slung her shotty over her shoulder.

“Be seeing you, Cha,” Taburnus called after her as she turned to leave the alley and head back to her shop. She didn’t look back, didn’t talk back. She didn’t want to fall into more manipulations. She just walked away.

“I should just go back and paint the wall,” Jez remarked, glaring in the direction of the alley for a moment before she stepped in and wrapped an arm around Mocha, guiding her friend away from that scene.

–

Jezzy led Mocha back to her shop in silence, holding her hand tight and looking back to check that they weren’t being followed. Only when they were in front of the display window, the neon OPEN sign blazing above them, did she stop to talk, her eyes running over Mocha. “Damn, girl. You’re a mess…” she sighed, brushing her hair away from her face, spying her smudged lipstick, the pink skin turning to hickeys along her neck. She fussed over her friend like a mother would a daughter. If not for their different hair colors and obvious racial features of the amazon woman, their size difference would have reasonably justified that assumption. “What happened, girl? I thought you were cold turkey on men. Who the hell was that guy?”

Mocha looked up at Jez, sighing as her best friend for the last year treated her like she was some 13-year-old child. She couldn’t help but pout a little as she pushed the taller woman’s hand away from her cheek. “That was my ex,” she explained, “And it’s a long story. I AM cold turkey on men. Women too, for that matter, so ease off on the touching, please.”

“Sure didn’t seem like you were cold turkey to me,” she commented, not dropping the subject or yielding space. She cleaned off the excess lipstick with a thumb, brushing the hair out of Mocha’s face for long enough to work away some eyeliner as well. “I was in half a mind to leave you with him, the way the two of you were kissing.”

Mocha went crimson in the cheeks as Jez confirmed that they had seen the whole thing. Reaching up, she pushed away Jez’s hands audibly protesting. “Look. He kissed me. Not the other way around.”

“It looked to me like you let him.”

“Well then you need glasses worse than I do,” Mocha huffed. “How’d you know to follow us anyway?! I didn’t see you when I was walking.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have, you had a 300 pound brute blocking your vision. I was coming out of the store when he grabbed you. Followed both of you down the road,” Jez explained, waving in to the counter girl, Lisa.

"Coming out of the store?" Mocha asked, curious.

"Yeah I just got back from the wilds. Wanted to see if you'd make some adjustments on Barb for me. Maybe hook me up with some custom slugs," she giggled, her smile turning devious. Jez had been a danger to the local Muta populace just outside of Neo Denver for something close to 2 and a half years now. The woman was a devil with a shotgun and a true fighter. There were few other people Mocha would want at her back during a fight.

“Oh sure. The slug’s will be the usual price, as for the upgrades… old barb was due for a tune-up last year. So her barrel probably needs a look, some cleaning and probably reinforcement. We could upgrade her shot weight and maybe beef her up a little,” Mocha said, happy to be talking about guns, rather than her love-life. Guns were what she did, they were her first language in this technobabble mana-saturated wasteland. A way to say “don’t fuck with me” to any big bastard who got the wrong idea.

Holding out her hand, she waited for Jez to hand her the weapon so she could give it a look, the pair of them preparing to walk into the shop. Jez took a moment to look Mocha over before unslinging her shotty and proffering the mighty weapon to the smaller woman.

Barb was a piece of art, old as she was, and for two years of heavy use, she was in excellent shape with only a few superficial scratches on her white twin barrels and their magi-projectorate filament barrel coating. The mag tube was unblemished and pristine, capable of holding 10 shells with a custom, 2 full reload mag reloader. With the 2 shells she knew Jez liked to keep in the chambers, she and Barb could off load 30 rounds in a fight. Mocha pitied the man on the other side of that confrontation.

The shotgun sported 2 21 inch barrels that would have to be reinforced and retooled. Her pump action would have to be oiled and sanded, and the grip replaced for function. Her triggers, both of them looked fine, but Mocha would double check them anyway for slip or stick. She’d also need to swap, oil, and brush the beast before giving the weapon back to its owner.

As she thought about these things, she and Jez moved into the shop, the redhead already prepared to get to work.

–