Mike stared at Tanner, kicking her feet as she stared down the scope and fired another round at the paper target.

“Damn, when you said this thing has some recoil, you weren’t joking.” She grinned.

“Depends on the round. That’s the lightest round in the 50 cal. That’s the 50 blackout case I used on the Lakeshot, just with lead instead of jacketed tungsten.”

“Is that why they’re louder?”

“Yep. Lead is cheap and easy to practice with, but not subsonic at this power. You’re a naturally good shot. I’ve been watching your form, it’s very intuitive.”

“So you’re just watching my fat ass jiggle? No wonder you brought the big shells today.” she smirked.

“I’m not even going to engage with you, you’ll just believe what you wanna believe. Now, 7mm pistol rounds. I wanna see how fast you can swap out the barrel. You just unscrew the end cap, drop in this insert, screw it back on, make sure it lines up with the groove. Last round keeps the bolt open. The magazine pulls out of the front, when you slap in a fresh one, the gun is cocked and locked, bolt release lever here. The 7mm pistol round doesn’t have much kick but the lighter faster rounds are hard to quiet, so expect a loud crack. I got 5 rounds loaded up. I want you to switch to full auto, dump all 5 on target, toss the barrel insert and load in the 50 mag, switch to semi-auto and take 3 well-aimed 50 cal shots.” He said. "As fast as you can reload, and then take your time on the 50's, accuracy counts more than speed here.

She did as instructed, and placed all 5 auto rounds on the cardboard, top right, switch, all 3 of the 50 caliber rounds right in the 5 inch center from a hundred yards.

“Oh that’s just fun. We gotta have an auto day where we just burn 7mm ammo.”

“You do realize I make these from scratch, and you can’t buy more.” he said dryly.

“Right…sorry.” She grinned with an “oopsie” look in her big wide eyes.

“You’re in a weirdly good mood.” He said with curiosity.

“I’m just having a good time with you. And the AA thing really helped. I didn’t think it would, I kinda thought…” she hesitantly paused, muttering from the corner of her mouth. “Maybe it was kinda feelygood bullshit, but I tossed my booze out, I said a lot to God and he didn’t say much back, and then I saw an old friend, met a new guy who had some very therapeutic things to say. And I think I’m learning to hear the voice. I’m definitely going back." she smiled.

“Alone or do you want support?” he asked with a nervous look.

“Honestly. I think I wanna do this solo, I like our thing, but this feels like a me thing. I do have a question. I know you don’t kill PEOPLE, people. Just things, but if you thought someone was after me and posed a threat me, not some demon, just a person... Would you kill them to protect me?” she asked.

“Of course. Taking a life to defend another life is not ideal, but it’s sometimes unavoidable. Is someone after you?” he asked.

“No, I just meant like if shit went wrong and someone was gonna get you, and I just clapped their ass before they could, you’d understand right? You wouldn't say it was lack of faith that God would have protected you if someone was actively on you and gonna mess you up. Even if they were just reacting or in the heat of the moment, or confused. If I thought you were gonna die, and I had to put someone down, just a regular normal human guy, that’s forgivable? Right?” she questioned

“Tanner, I never know if you’re just being hypothetical or worried about something bad happening. I wouldn’t blame you, I’d thank you. It’s not a celebration when you have to take a human life, but it could some day be necessary. Why so paranoid all of a sudden? Let me ask you something different. Did you notice anything about the group that was a bit… different?” he smiled.

“No, they seemed pretty cool. One guy was an asshole, but I’m not really worried about him.”

“You didn’t go inside, did you?” he asked.

“Uh…wha- I have you know…I… went inside.” She defended on a technicality.

“You sat in the parking lot and chickened out, never left the van, did you? You went out to have some fun elsewhere, I get it. You’re young, you had a vehicle, churches aren’t your thing.”

“Okay, honestly, I spotted someone I know and chickened out, but I went in after almost everyone left. So I did go there, and I went inside for a while and talked to someone, I did the God thing. I just missed the actual meeting. I guess technically I avoided the group, but I tried, I had my reasons, and I hung out and drank some coffee, tossed the booze. I don’t think I can be part of the meetings with someone I know there, but maybe he’ll stop going. How did you know? Am I just that easy to read?”

“Yes. Who did you know there?” he asked, looking concerned.

“Not exactly a friend, more like a former employer. Someone I should avoid. Why the snippy nosey shit, I know people, I don’t always get along.” she snipped.

“Tanner, the group isn’t just an AA group. Everyone going there has killed someone, or they just picked the wrong group to attend with. They're all serial killers.”

“It’s an Assasin’s Anonymous club?” she said, looking blown away.

“Not exactly. The lady who runs the group has a way of finding people who have taken a life before. It’s a very un-advertized group, the meeting places change. If you ended up there, it’s probably because you got this card from Catherine, my sponsor. I don’t attend, I just call her.”

“Why not? Hell, why not recruit from there?”

“I tried that, problem is one of the members went bright on the thermals and I had to…remove him from the attendance list. She suspects it was me. Nobody else knows about the thermals, Tanner. Keep that between us. She probably assumed we had history, otherwise I would have been a marked target. The group isn’t very open about their activities, it’s not a bunch of hitman stories and trading ideas. Everyone has their cover addiction, some of them are actual addictions, nobody knows what temptations and falling off the wagon is the drugs or the booze or the sex addiction, and what part is killing people. It’s very cryptic and unspoken. Nobody asks for last names, nobody asks about your kids unless you bring it up, nobody outright says: Hello I’m mike, and I killed 4 people last week.” He said with a solemn tone. “We all kinda just know why we’re there and if Catherine picked you, and you got a card, there was a reason. She has a way of knowing. So my concern is that you saw someone you know, and that means they’re a killer.”

“Nobody I can’t handle. It’s not like the whole room isn’t filled with fucking killers anyway. I'm one of them.”

“Did anyone…light up the parking lot?”

“I didn’t watch from a thermal scope, I watched from a dumpster, and I parked the van a block away. Why, you think there’s some people there ripe for picking off?”

“Crossed my mind. Went there twice and found a mark, who’s to say there’s not several. That’s why I don’t go. If I come back and people keep dropping, Catherine will see the pattern. It’s just too tempting. And I can handle any of them, except maybe her.”

“Is she really that good?” tanner asked.

“You don’t get out of the Casino mob group alive, let alone stay alive. She did. She took down somewhere between 20 and 30 people before they just let her walk. She has connections, so I don’t wanna kill her even if I thought I had a good chance of actually doing it. Sometimes you know who not to piss off. People who lack that skill tend to end up dead. So if you wanna check out the group, It may be good for you, and it may be the best way for you to hear God’s voice. Lotta the members…Quit their addictions or made peace with it through her group. Just don’t bring thermals, and I would prefer not to go with you.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to do everything together. I had a blast just chatting with one of the stragglers in the parking lot and going in after for coffee and a little abstract discussion about God that makes far more sense now that I know why.”

“Just be safe. You’re an adult, you’re a killer, and your biggest problem was the junk and the sloppy crime scene cleanup, and you’ve leaned a lot of lessons about both. Just remember that a room full of killers is just as much a room of rivals and enemies as it is allies and friends. Just because there are rules doesn’t mean they don’t get broken, and you can’t un-kill someone.” He said. Taking Gwen and making a few practice shots himself.

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Detective Baker’s picture glowed on a screen in a dark room, as Catherine sipped her gin and tonic, She picked up her phone and squinted at the image.

“Still no sign of Tim?” she asked. “Interesting. Tim wasn't the most likes member, but he had connections with the church and if he's missing, he's dead. Dead the day Damien made his first appearance. No I didn’t give him a card, he just showed up. Didn’t say exactly who referred him to the group. But Tim was there, new guy shows up, a cop, Tim disappears. “I find that QUITE interesting. No arrests made, no police records, and it says here Officer Damien is currently on a break from detective work, I also had a call last week from our old friend Mike, who said he felt very closely watched by someone within the police circle, and I see here the very same Damien Baker took him into police custody after a cop was killed, and he was released an hour later. Damien specializes in, of all things, cases of unsolved serial killers. Now isn’t that just dandy, and he shows up at my group unannounced and just sits back observing.” She said.

“Well, that’s suspicious as hell.” Said the male voice.

“Yea. We have rules you know. Police aren’t supposed to question those in my group, let alone walk in the fucking meeting the night someone goes missing. I know Mike is not officially a member, but he is clearly being targeted, and it’s too damn close to be coincidence. I want everything on this guy. His family, his home, his partner if he has one on active duty, get some dirt for me.” She said, hanging up and sighing heavily. “You cocky son of a bitch. Walk right in and drop your actual name in MY meeting like you own the place.” She chuckled, shaking her head at the arrogance. “I’m amazed Mike hasn’t taken you out already.” she sighed.

“Mike, when are you really gonna take me out already?” Tanner asked, kicking her feet in the chair that was too tall for her.

“We just got back from the range.” he scoffed.

“I mean OUT-out. Like just to dinner or to a club where we’re not killing anyone. Like, I love going out and killing someone, but we never just go out.” she hinted.

“I guess there’s just a lot of work to be done, my recreation usually involves blues and reloading, like right now.”

“Not that this isn’t lovely and stuff and not that my imaginary-dick isn’t super hard watching you make bullets for hours every day, but don’t you ever just…go out? Not research, supplies, or hits. Not stalking a target or covering your alibi for something, aside from the casino money scam, do you just socialize?”

“No…I kill people. I can’t let people get close, they may find out, and they wouldn’t understand. You’re the first decent person that seems to."

“And yet…here we are. Reloading magnesium shells in a basement, to what I still firmly believe is old record player porno music. Fuck music, but no fuckin. No date night. When was the last time you went out for a date? Not a setup you tolerated or a potential kill…a real date.”

“Not for several years, and it didn’t go well. Nice lady from the group. She bored me, she thought my faith was stupid, I left early. Before that, just my wife. Honestly, it’s been so long I don’t even know what to do.”

“Shit, fam. That’s depressing. Your poor dick. After that long you’re probably super hopeless of ever connecting with anyone, it’s a damn shame nobody gets you or hangs out with you all day or knows you’re a killer, that would be awkward to find out unless THEY were a killer too. Like…” she silently laughed “the fuck are the chances of that, right? Some hottie just liking you anyway, practically throwing ass your way and even tolerating your boring stuff like reloading and metal detector gardening at the range. God, if only there were someone just, close by and shit you could trust. Too bad that’s never gonna happen.”

“Tanner, I'm not blind or clueless. I just don’t understand your fascination with me.” he said.

“Do you have to?” she shrugged. “I mean if it was a trap, I’d have killed you by now or tried and GOT killed. Who cares why?”

“Because this is a rare situation where I can train someone to do my work, who is obligated and willing to trust me. This is bigger than just us and our feelings and feelings get in the way of work. If things got romantic and didn't work out, the partnership would fail, the job would be ruined and someone would get killed.”

“Bonnie and Clyde made it work.” She shrugged.

“Both shot to pieces by cops.”

“Okay, but like we’re gonna die eventually, you probably sooner just from old age. We could get murked by some cop or vengeance killer any moment, any day. If God wanted you to be sad and alone he would have maybe sent you a dude, or an ugly chick, some young lesbian, or just some appreciate that thinks older men are gross, or someone like you with just zero sex drive. Bruh, you literally got a killer hooker who has no other bed to sleep in and no home to go back to.” she huffed.

“That’s partially my point. You’re stuck with me, I’m giving you free room and board and food, shelter from the cold, a home. You do favors for money to survive, and I’ve given you the equivalent of 6 months work in overhead and free shit, not to mention favors and training, covered your crime scenes. You probably feel like you owe me, and have to return the favor somehow. You have no money, no possessions, nothing of physical value to pay me with. You feel a debt, and you’re just grateful for the help. You don’t actually find me attractive, you have a moral push to pay the favor back. If you met me any other way, called me to fix your heater, or wandered into some blues club by accident and spotted me waiting for a ride, you’d have never even considered me a potential date. I’m not basing a risky, complicated relationship, on owing me one and lack of options.” he explained.

“Firstly, how do you know any of that? Opposites attract, people have types. You have one, I have one. Maybe mine is you. The fact that you’re NOT hanging that fact over my head for favors, that I owe you, is really sweet. The preacher thing seems like a drag until you find out you have your own moral code, and it makes sense, and you’re just crazy enough to not make me seem like the obvious crazy one…but not so crazy you’re just a nutcase. I’m starting to see your spirituality points make sense, and not just bullshit. I’m also kind of a bitch, if I wanted to take free handouts and get spoiled for nothing in return, news flash, I’m fine with not paying you back. You said I didn’t have to, I’m off the hook, no pun intended. I don’t owe you…because you told me I don’t. Deals are deals, if they say it’s free it’s free. I do not feel the need to pay back every favor unless the deal was that I do something in return for that favor. Plus, you hit me with a van, I should be annoyed about that. I forgive you. We’re just two adults that work together, you hired me, I do my work, we both have some off-time, what’s the problem with enjoying it? Am I honestly just not your type at all, or do you not remember what your type even is, and you aren’t looking for one?” she asked "Am I a temptation you deny or no temptation?"

“It's not you. Maybe this job just leaves you dead inside.” he said coldly, loading shells.

“Oh bullshit. I do the same thing, it’s fun. Yes, it limits your dating options, but here we are, and you have an AA group of killers if ladies aren’t your jam or something. Do you just not feel alone? Hey, Mister bifocals, eyes up here. Just honestly give this a once over and tell me truthfully that you don’t remotely find me attractive at all, and there’s just zero thoughts in your head when I do this…” she said, grabbing the chair seat and lifting her knees up, with a seductive pout.

“This doesn’t seem like an unnecessary risk to you? Complication to an already dangerous and complex thing we have?” he asked

“HA…you didn’t say no. And yea, but complex is fun. What’s the point of being alive if you don’t live in it? You love the complex hits, the details, the risk, the unnecessary danger like taunting the cops cutting open a dead guy to see if he’s full of evil shit or not. You’re just afraid you’re too far out of the game to know how to play, and you probably are. Honestly if you tried picking me up at a bar you would absolutely fuck it up. You would say only the boring shit and hide who you are, and come off as dull and weird and ruin it. Thank God, you didn’t do that. You went with the cow-catcher approach and just put me on the hood, and then let me get to know you better. You say you got nothing to offer, and why would anyone want some old weirdo? You’re James Bond and Sherlock Holmes rolled into one. You’re clever, you’re loyal, and don’t act like we don’t share a rare common interest just because I like Synthbass Goth rave music, and you like slow dance piano porn tracks, or that you’re old and dorky, and I’m hip and cool. So what? We like guns and knives and righteous assassinations, cabins in the woods, and BBQ chicken pizza. Marriages are built on less common ground because two people had fitting genitals and were both single and liked one movie. THAT is insane. People make that work too.” She sighed. “You’re just not trying.”

“You’re right. You want the truth. You’re very attractive, you’re fascinating, you’re adorable. The things about you nobody would understand, I understand. The things I don’t understand, fascinate me more. And the last time I felt that way about someone, we had a life together, and she got killed. Safest job in the world, working at a church for a youth program. Killed by a random break-in because someone said preachers keep the church money in their home safes, and they thought nobody would be home on a holiday weekend. Now I hunt and kill some of the nastiest people alive and people want me dead or in prison, and my home is a target, and you work with me. If I had anything close to what I lost and lost it again, nothing about me would survive it. My faith, my principals, my work, nothing. I would either become a sad drunk and blow my head off while a record plays in the dark, or go on a killing spree I know I wouldn’t walk away from just to pretend like I died doing something useful. It really isn’t you, Tanner. It’s me, it's the job.”

“And yet…You believe God put me here specifically to continue your purpose, and instead of a lezbo or a boy, he sent me. Runaway nobody with nothing, kinda hoping to do something stupid and pretend it mattered. Lotta classic cars are left old and broken in some garage because nobody wanted to risk ruining it. Eventually we all die, we all crash and wear out. Why waste the chance? I’m just saying, think about it.” she sighed.

“I assure you I’ve thought about it a lot. I just haven’t decided if this old ticker is fixable, or if it’s rusted through and better left for scrap.” he said.

“Yea, well, you don’t know how good my body work is. Kinda hard to say it’s totaled if you won't even let someone check under the hood. Kinda guarantees you already failed if you didn’t try. Sounds like an excuse to quit. Have you prayed about it?” she asked.

“A lot. Probably doubled my chat time since I met you.”

“Did he ever just say: No! Resist temptation, do more training! Or are you just asking over and over, hoping he would so you’ll be off the hook? Seems like you don’t wanna be fixed. I’ve accepted you just the busted-ass way you are. The only part I’m suggesting you get repaired is the being sad and lonely part. You really wanna just keep THAT part broken? Really? Why? You sure? That seems dumb. You’re not dumb, you’re clever. The fuck is that about? Kinda just sounds like fear. You’re not afraid of cops and killers and getting shot at…you're really that scared of a little street-brat in a plaid skirt and tennis shoes?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“You have stabbed people before.” He joked with a smile. “But truthfully, if you were the thing that killed me, I don’t think I’d even mind. Better than some cop or creep. We’ll do dinner out. Not sure when or where yet. Let me work on that. Work is priority, but I will consider some social time.”

“Yay!” she clapped. “I win.”