Tanner’s phone rang. She swerved to answer it, as the jostling woke Carl, and she frantically made a “shush” gesture at him.

“Mike, holy shit. What’s going on?” she asked.

“Bad news mostly. Firstly I want to say that I’m sorry, and I never mean to hurt you. I had only the best intentions for you, which is more than most people can honestly say.”

“When are you coming home?” she asked.

“I’m not. I’m with Nadja now.” He sighed sadly.

“What do you mean you’re WITH Nadja? You’re with me.” She corrected.

“Not anymore. Everything has changed. You’re safer without me.”

“Mike what’s wrong with you; does she have a gun to your head right now?”

“Not at the moment, but occasionally. Sometimes it’s part of the foreplay. Tanner I’m leaving you for Nadja. Just not for the reasons you think.” He said.

“Because she’s hotter and a better killer, or because I’m not just enough?” Tanner snipped.

“Because you’re too good for me. Tanner, I tried to teach you to be a better killer, but you taught me to love again. You taught me that there’s better people in the world than me, doing the right kind of killing. You’re special. Better than her and me. Better than all of us. I was right about you, you were my replacement, but not because I’m too old to do this, but because I’m not who you think…who we both thought I was. Tanner you’re a good person, a pure heart with a little monster inside you. That little monster if your friend and it keeps you safe and alive, like a pet. Your guard dog. It follows you and takes orders. The one inside me fights me for control, and Nadja has made me realize something. I was never the hero. I was just meant to FIND and train the hero. You.” He added.

“Mike, you’re MY hero, just come home. We’ll get you sober and fixed and better. I don’t care that you slipped and fell off the wagon, even if it was into Nadja's pussy. Just get back up, don’t just quit. There’s a new team, and frankly, you could lead them if you wanted. Or just retire with me, and I’ll do the work.” She rattled off.

“I’m not quitting. I’m accepting what I am. I was always hesitant to even touch you, Tanner. I always felt like some predator preying on you, like I convinced you I was a savior and that’s why you wanted me. But I’m not that, and I knew it deep down. I’m just a monster playing preacher to cope. I’m unstable. I deserve Nadja. I don’t deserve you. You deserve better, and I only deserve another monster. I’ve taught you to hunt them better, maybe some day you’ll hunt me.”

“Mike this isn’t you talking. She’s brainwashed you. You’re drunk, I can tell.”

“No, she just broke the illusion. Everything I am is an illusion, and I can’t go back to not knowing it. Once you understand, you can’t un-know what you are. I’m telling you this because you need to move on and stop trying to save me. I saved you because you were worth saving. I’m just…finally realizing I’m the same thing I’ve been hunting. Just know if it comes down to it, I won’t hurt you, but it’s alright to kill me. I’d rather die by you than some other monster in some shootout, or a heart attack, or more likely Nadja. One of us might kill the other. And Carl…don’t trust him. He’s not as clean as he seems, even if he’s not as covered in blood as I am. Just don’t turn your back on him.” He said as she turned to stare at Carl.

“I don’t trust anyone but you. Mike, what do you want me to do?” she sniffled.

“What I taught you. Hunt and kill what deserves it, but only what you can safely handle. Hunt smart and clear-headed. You’re worth more to this world alive than a martyr. Plan, prepare, cover your ass and do what’s right. If you stay true to the path and stay strong, you’ll lead others, pass it along. But my inner demon isn’t my friend, he’s just me, without the mask of denial. God works in mysterious ways. I have a darker path I can’t let you follow, and you have so much to give the world that I can’t restrict.”

“Mike I love you, and I know you love me. You can’t Love Nadja too, let alone more. I don’t care if you fucked her, you can sober up, and I’ll forgive you. I know you regret it. Mistakes happen.”

“That’s exactly it. I don’t regret it. I have to do some horrible things, and she’s better at that than you, because she’s a monster. I can't lead you into this nightmare, and I can’t beat it alone, I need her because she’s strong enough to do it, and because if you died fighting beside me, I’d never be able to go on. If she dies beside me…it’s just a waste of a great piece of meat. I don’t love her. That’s why I can take the risk and let her do the same. I’ll manage. In fact, I might just be the thing that finishes her off. The whole point of good meat is to consume and destroy it. It’s what predators do, Tanner. Don’t be someone’s prey, not even mine. Do better, let me go. Survive.” He said, hanging up abruptly as she stared dumbfounded at the horizon in silence.

“Tanner, listen to me.” Carl begged. “Mike is gone. The best you can do is pray for him and help me kill Nadja and Mayor Sandlin. Maybe he can be saved, but not with her alive and not while there’s a mission to do. You have to let him go.”

“Why do I just want to give up? Just…run this truck into a semi and end all of this?” she asked.

“You don’t, especially with me in it. You’re just in shock. If you wanna save mike, if you believe we can, we’ll try. Join the group. Help us. What are his secrets, how does he make the silver bullets and how does he make impossible shots?”

“He never taught me how to make the bullets, he said I wasn’t ready to learn. So I don’t know. He said the impossible shots were a trick, just illusions, but if he’s still making them now, I don’t know how. He never really…let me in.” she said, lightly petting the journals she had flipped through earlier. “I never really knew him as much as he knew me. Carl, what if he IS a monster and everything was bullshit? I still can’t kill him or let someone else. Monster or not, I still love him. I can’t change that. I don’t even know if I can trust him, and he’s the one person I still trust. Fuck, he saved me from prison, he saved my life, he took care of me, got me clean, monster or not I owe him at least my best try to save what’s left.” She said, tearing up and trying to focus on the road.

“Let me make a call. I figured Nadja would be a problem, not nearly this much, but to some degree. I have backup plans. Don’t worry. We’ll kill the bitch and Mike won’t have any excuse or control.” He said dialing the phone and waiting.

A little flower garden buzzed with the humming of an unknown blonde, bangs, baggy clothes, no more than 5 foot tall. Bare feet brushed by several cats and gloved hands brought a handful of flowers inside the little workshop. The phone rang and awaited the strange figure, gray eyes calmly looking into the distance.

“Thistle Rae, how is your day.” The odd gardener said.

“Yea, it’s Carl. Mike and Nadja are heading to Illinois, here’s their tracking code, Nadja is a problem for all of us, Can you pull off a scenario 3?” he asked as tanner glanced over.

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“Sure thing, Do I get paid for this?”

“Exactly what we agreed on, double of you bring her head as proof. Just get it done. Operation foxglove is a green light. Effective immediately.” He said hanging up.

“What the hell is all that about.”

“Thistle Rae, The Gardener, as the cops would say. Grows poisonous shit and herbal teas. I figured Nadja would take down anything armed and tactical, and we don’t want a repeat event where Mike is going to just get in the crossfire. They have to stop eventually, a motel or a truck stop. Everyone needs to eat and drink. I trust a poison muffin baked with foxglove seeds or in her coffee more than I trust someone to put a bullet in her head before Mike returns fire or gets in the line of it. So unless, Mikey has an ambulance up his ass and some experience with toxicology, he’s gonna be watching her die, heading home alone, and nobody gets shot up.”

Mike sat at his laptop, obsessing over blueprints and files as usual, while Nadja got some truck stop food. He felt a strange urge to move, like something in him was asking to take over. For once, he let it, polishing off his beer and grabbing the MPX, the thermal scope turned on as he watched carefully, crosshairs on Nadja as the hot coffee cups in her hands glowed brightly and she didn’t. The strange temptation to put a 7mm blackout round through her chest washed over him, and he racked the bolt forward, contemplating why she showed up black as sin in the scope and everyone else just glowed a dim red…except one. A white figure walked behind her, from the counter to the far side of the store and to the parking area for employees. He considered opening fire on whatever it was, resisting, and letting Nadja approach with the food and coffee. She climbed in the driver’s seat, chuckling as he stared past her in a fog.

“Hunting our dinner?” she asked.

“Something is out there. Do you see anyone suspicious in the store?” he asked.

“Everyone looks suspicious in this country. Everyone is weird. Half the people are even armed.” She scoffed, biting into her sandwich.

“Stop eating. Drive around the truck stop slowly, I want a better look at someone.”

“You recognize someone?” she asked.

“No, but I felt the urge to kill someone and I assumed it was just you. Playful temptation, but then I spotted someone in the thermals that was way above normal temperature. There’s a killer in there. What are the odds a killer just happens to be there when you walk in?”

“Mike…you’re either too sober or too drunk. You just want to kill someone. Remember, your god is just you…telling you what to do. The scope means nothing. You see what you want, and you want to kill someone. You don’t really wan to kill me, just a little curiosity. Kill what you want to kill.”

“So if my mind just creates hallucinations to tell me what I need to do, instinct fairing up like an animal's neck hair, then why do I want to kill THAT person, specifically. He said, pointing the rifle past her face. Someone I can't identify, a random person in a scope."

“Maybe you just spotted the weakest of the herd nobody would mind picking off, or the strongest of the herd that would be a challenge or a nice trophy. This is not a good time to have fun, we will kill later. After dinner.”

“I’ll kill now. They haven’t left the car. They’re just sitting there dead still, waiting for something. Carl isn’t close. He sent someone. Why else would a glowstick like that show up and park their ass in waiting. I’m just waiting for the rifle to raise or for them to get out and start walking this way with an Uzi under a coat."

“Fine. Your instincts mean something, but you overthink them. You found something you like, kill it, but not yet. If things quiet down, when the dark sets in, you can hunt, quietly.”

“So I have your permission now to do what I want as a free killer? How thoughtful of you to grant me this, mistress.” He sarcastically brooded. “You wanted Mister Black behind the wheel, you don’t get to drive when he does. I should take them out now. I’ll humor your request to wait till dark because it’s not far off, and I kill better on a full stomach. So don’t mistake negotiation with control. If I decide to kill something, it dies. Even if it's you, and you struggle.” He snarled.

“Well, now I want you to hunt me. Maybe your thirst for blood is just a thirst for flesh. There’s plenty here to satisfy that.” She said, looking annoyed that his attention was locked onto something else and not her, with one leg hiked up on the seat and dropping more than a hint.

“You’re dessert. There’s a main course out there. You don’t get to celebrate with a treat till I’ve put meat on the table. Order of operations.” He said, sipping his coffee and making a strange face. “Did you put something in this for flavor, or is this just shitty coffee?” he asked.

“Black, as we both like it. Though it does have a certain…truck stop quality to it.”

“Stop drinking the coffee. How much have you had?” he asked.

“More than I wanted, less than I needed. It’s shit, but I’m very tired.” she yawned.

“Exactly. I was wide awake till had a few sips. Now I feel a little drowsy. You’re slurring your words and your lisp is worse than normal.”

“Fuck you, you like it.” she said almost drunkenly.

“There’s something in the coffee. Take it to the back and pour it down the sink, fill the empty cups with water and put them back in the front holders, then pretend to be asleep and stay awake. Deviate from that in any way and I’ll leave you here defenseless and kill that thing myself. If it doesn’t kill you first, I’ll have my fun without you.” He said darkly serious.

“You’re not joking. Fine I’ll see where you are going with this, and when this bullshit is over you owe me a favor, and I’ll get it. I'm in control.” she scowled.

“Keep telling yourself that, while you do what I told you.”

Thistle stepped out of the parked, car, loosely draped lace and layers of tattered coat hiding something, a purse of goodies. As Thistle rounded the back of the U-haul, the soft click of a shiny chrome revolver was drowned out by the hefty thump of someone hitting the floor, hard. The door was locked, Thistle peaked into the passenger door of the cab and tried the side door, opening it and stepping in. Upon seeing 2 unconscious bodies, the revolver went back into the holster and the bag of tricks plopped onto the table. A roll of tape, a syringe with a very large empty chamber and then finally the big revolver holster. Thistle took a few steps to lock the door and turned to meet a pistol butt striking firmly to the head, followed by Mike pointing a knife.

“Who’s crazy now?” he grinned as Nadja stepped into the back, looking confused as hell.

“What is this…robbery?” she asked.

“THAT is our killer. Sedatives in the coffee, a 38 special loaded with hollowpoints, and a syringe. That, I believe, is The Gardener. Sedates victims for torture, nobody knows what kind, but they thought the first 3 were just heart attacks until they found the tape residue and did a more detailed tox screen for herbal poisons. Some concoction that makes you hallucinate and experience fear and anxiety when you wake. Finally, a syringe full of air to the jugular. Looks like a heart attack if you don’t know any better. Check the bag. Bleach, sulfuric acid, a thermos of dry ice. This fucker was going to torture and kill us like the other 7 victims. And you were going to drink the shitty coffee. You’re welcome.” He said coldly, grabbing the syringe and filling it with air, delivering the killing dose and holding Thistle’s mouth until the struggling stopped.

“Why didn’t you say you recognized this killer earlier?” she asked with a puzzled look.

“I didn’t. There are no records of a positive ID, so I had no idea what the damn gardener looked like. Could have been a 13-year-old boy or a 90-year-old woman for all I knew. I just recognize the tools and the MO.” He said, looking up as she stood dumbfounded. “I told you they glow on the thermals. So here we are again asking…why don’t you? You’re a killer, probably worse than half the people I’ve shot down. Everyone glows before they die by my hand. You’re ice-cold. You think god is just my instinct or insanity? How did I know by a sudden whisper in my head and an urge to kill something that I needed to, and we just happened to be moments before getting taken out by a fucking cup of coffee and some air?”

“I don’t…really know.” She gasped sarcastically, smiling like she knew a secret.

“Looks like someone was wrong. God isn’t just Mike in a bottle. God wants Mister Black and you, working together. And wouldn’t you know it, I happen to keeping a little surprise treat from you. I need you to help me kill Mayor Jacob Sandlin.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I wanna kill him, because it would be fun. That’s your excuse. Mine doesn’t matter. God works in mysterious ways. You like the challenge and I have planned this out for a year waiting for God to send me my partner, and then I backed down because I couldn’t bear the idea of little Tanner getting killed on a suicidal mission with high security and too many variables. So he sent me someone meaner, deadlier, someone who doesn’t give a shit and someone I could live with getting killed. And then you refused to work with a preacher, you wanted to tango with Mister Black and play psychopath together.” He grinned, stabbing the knife down into thistle’s skull for no reason but the hell of it. “So let’s play. We can’t kill a former president without months of planning…we can kill a mayor on Friday, and whoever gets in our way, all week long.”

“Michael, you are either the most insane person I have ever met or the most brilliant killer alive, and I would play psychopath with either one.” She smirked, jumping him and tearing his shirt off 8 feet away from the dead body and the slow trail of blood making its way across the floor.