The seconds after Bread had zapped the girl, the mom bit Val in the hand. Loud screams and grunts immediately followed before everything ended in chaos. And she had to make the difficult decision to leave behind the book.
She ran. Out the window with Bread in her arms.
The heist had failed. Fucking miserably. Never in her life had she failed a heist. After all that work, her once-in-a-lifetime chance—gone. All because Bread hadn't listened.
Why couldn’t he just… She glanced down at Bread. His body sloshed back and forth within her arms, completely limp, eyes glazed over and faced out into the distance. Fuck.
It wasn’t his fault. She should just leave it at that. He was young. That was it. He’d done as he was told—shut down the security and zapped the girl unconscious. No, he’d gone far and beyond. She’d never expected him to shut everything down like that. Instead of being all pissy about something she couldn’t change, she decided to brush it all aside.
As frustrated as she was, she knew there was always a next time.
…
Is that smoke?
The closer they got to the gym, the more it tasted like ash in the air. Dark clouds billowed above, shadowing the already gloomy slums of their neighborhood. It wasn’t industrial smoke; there was no chemical aftertaste.
Her steps quickened. She shuffled through the sparse darkness of familiar alleyways, still lugging Bread around her waist like a grocery bag. The dry heat choked at her throat. And as the passage finally opened up—
A conflagration.
“Coach?!” The gym was on fire. “What the fuck?” When she got closer, she saw a lone figure sitting on the front steps of the gym, smoking old, antique cigars out of his mouth. It was a figure who looked nothing like Coach.
“Val?” Bread squeaked.
She dropped Bread and all her belongings at the entrance of the alley. Then she knelt down and locked eyes—
“Keep these safe. Don’t. Come. Out. Understood?”
Bread wasn’t even watching. His eyes drifted to the inferno.
“Don’t.” She shifted his face back over. “Stay here. Everything’ll be fine.” Then she hurried over to the front entrance of the gym. To the place that had been home…
“Ah, Valerie Briarwood. Here at last.” The man on the steps took off his hat. “Rictor Thorns at your service.”
“Rictor?” She knew that name from somewhere. That face too. And the hole in his cheek… Shit, the merc! She remembered that face from Gambit Greg’s. It was unmistakable. Shit, shit, shit. What did he want?
“I knew I saw you from somewhere, sweetcakes. Real smooth talker, aren’t you?” He brushed the accumulated soot off his pants and groaned his way to his feet. “You’ve escaped me once already. Won’t happen again.”
“Did you light the place?” She should’ve killed this guy when she’d first met him back when she’d ran from her shack. “Where’s Coach?”
The guy ignored her. “See, we didn’t think you were really that moronic. Asking Greg about the van and then stealin’ from right under our noses? Brave. That’s extremely brave.”
“I didn’t steal jack shit.” Was he here because of that? No, that shouldn’t have been the case. She’d left no traces behind.
“Where’s the veil?” He threw over a bag. The contents spilled out onto the ground.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Shit! Her inflatable floor jack. It was bent weirdly, broken into multiple pieces, but it was hers. Unmistakably hers. She knew she’d forgotten it the day after, but it wasn’t supposed to be anything special. How could anyone tell if it really was hers? There was no proof.
“I’m sure he can die any moment now.” He gestured towards the burning building. “Carbon monoxide poisoning’s no joking matter.”
“Bitch! You don’t have fucking proof! That’s not mine!” Carbon monoxide poisoning? He was kidding, right? Coach had nothing to do with this! Would they really kill him for her mistakes? Greg was on good terms with him!
“You make it sound like you know what that is.” He motioned towards the scattered parts on the ground. “I haven’t even told you anything.”
Fuck! He was fishing for evidence! Fuck! She was going to have to double down. “Oh, I get it. You don’t even actually know who it was. It’s obviously a fucking floor jack! Are you fucking kidding me? It’s got that famous company logo and everything! You’re not even trying! You’re literally blind—”
“Look, sweetcakes. I don’t give a flying fuck who’s it is. Someone’s gonna pay for what they’d done to Greg. Just blame it on ol’ lady luck that it’s you guys, alright?”
“So you’re just going to drag a bunch of innocent people into your stupid drama?! Just because you’re all so stupid you can’t figure out who stole from you?”
“Innocent’s pretty shallow of a word now, innit? Comin’ from a black market arms dealer and a thief.”
“I quit that shit, and Coach did too! Didn’t I fucking tell you that I’m a boxer? I’m not a thief! I don’t steal shit anymore.” She pointed at the broken scraps. “That can’t be mine!”
“A boxer, huh?” He smoked his cigars before spitting them all out onto the ground. Then he pulled up his hands. “Well, let’s see if that’s true.”
“The fuck you doing? I don’t have time for this.” She needed to get to Coach. She took a step towards the gym, but he mirrored her, blocking her path forward.
“C’mon.” The guy started swaying side to side with exaggerated motion. “Time for a short, little bout, sweetcakes.”
“Move.” He was mocking her. She wouldn’t fall for those taunts.
“Make me.” He motioned for her to attack. “A professional boxer can’t even take on a single, unarmed bounty hunter?” He smirked. “I promise. No guns, no knives. Just these raw, cyber-enhanced fists. You win, I let you all go. Otherwise, I’m just going to assume you ain’t shit.”
“Bitch…”
…
It wasn’t even a slugfest. It was more of a slogfest.
She should’ve gotten her eye fixed already. The moment he’d realized her left eye was inoperable, he started to attack from her blind spots. She couldn’t dodge anything. She couldn’t even see where it was all coming from.
Fuck, I don’t have time for this!
He was small fry! If she had her eye fixed by now, he wouldn’t even stand a chance! He’d be on the floor, knocked out cold. She swore if he’d done anything to Coach…
No, don’t think about that now. Ego. She had to rid herself of her ego. Just like what Coach had told her before. She took a deep breath. Calm down, shake it off, follow his rhythm… One eye or two, it didn’t matter. She had to win. Fight until her dying breath. Small fry or not, everything was a threat. Be cautious but not nervous…
The merc rushed in again. He ducked to her left.
This time, she predicted his moves. She swung without hesitation. Imagined his face at the level of her chest. And with a hard thwack—
“Ah, son of a bitch!” The merc came back into view. “That fucking hurts!” His nose was bleeding profusely.
A wide grin spread across her face, knowing that Coach’s advice weren’t told in vain. She swiftly backed up and positioned for the next barrage of punches.
“You’re dead.” The merc reached into his jacket. He started to pull something out—shiny, black, almost too familiar…
A gun.
Shit, that fucking liar! Her eyes grew wide. She could tell what he was going to do. It was just like before. But she couldn’t move. She was exhausted. She could see it coming, but she couldn’t move.
The gun slowly lifted.
Move.
Her joints locked. Her legs didn’t listen. Just like before. Just like when she’d lost to Long Arms…
Fuck. Move!
Her body jolted.
MOVE!
One by one, her limbs started to stir. They were just a few feet apart. She’d close the distance, hit the gun away before he shot it. She’d make it in time!
Just a little further…
Her arms reached out; her muscles strained. Everything seemed like it was running in slow motion.
Just a bit more…
The gun was there, still climbing up with the movement of his hand. It was getting closer to her head, passing her stomach, inches below her heart…
She wasn’t going to make it.
A smile started to spread across the merc’s face. The gun was almost to her neck; it was still ascending, inching ever so close. She saw his finger move, the pressure pulling the trigger back. It was aimed at her forehead. It was going to fire. It was—
“No!”