Black Sunshine

Chapter 1 - In a Violent World, Is it Really Surprising When Even the Flowers Bite?

The roar of the engine as it sped down the sunny highway filled Nera’s heart with joy. Her black 1965 Mustang (converted to use the fuel available of course) dodged and weaved through the lazy afternoon traffic. She shifted automatically to the sound of the engine and soared down her off ramp, radio blaring as she sang along. The groceries having fallen out of the paper bags miles back rolled on the floor of the passenger seat with every shrieking turn.

She flew past a cop lying in wait in an alley for an unsuspecting lawbreaker. It must have taken him a minute to register what had just happened because she was several blocks down the road when the sirens came on and he spun out to follow her. Nera laughed and flipped him off. She spun the wheel hard to the right and pulled into an alley full of nothing but the odd bit of litter. She didn’t lose an ounce of her speed.

“Ha, it’s been too long since I had a good chase,” Nera laughed to herself. The track changed to one with a perfect driving beat, “Oh. Funt. Yes!”

She pushed the pedal down and the car responded by jerking forward, the alleys passed by the open window with a whooshing that was immensely satisfying. She saw pedestrians ahead of her a few alleys, so she shifted, slowed, and turned left onto a larger street. The cop screeched to a halt behind her, and took a second to complete his turn.

After a few minutes of delightful cat and mouse with the cop through the streets, during which the poor cop never got within a car length of the speed demon Nera, she finally saw her stop. An unassuming florist shop where she could grab the flowers she needed for tonight.

This was the night in which she was finally meeting Solana’s parents. They had been dating for just over a year, and would have met them sooner but they had been overseas doing some sort of charity work. She knew everything would be perfect tonight, it had to be.

She yanked the emergency break up, and spun the wheel. The mustang obediently screamed and smoked, as it turned full around and perfectly parallel parked behind another car. The whole car jerked back as it came to a perfect stop. She smoothed her hair absentmindedly in the rearview mirror, and stepped out as the cop finally caught up and with a squeal jerked to a stop in front of her.

She nonchalantly waved at him, with her best shit-eating grin. She could see the color drain from his face, as he saw just who he had been chasing. She leaned against the warm black paint of her car, mentally daring him to do something. The man in the driver’s seat was clearly conflicted about what to do. Ultimately, he decided that she wasn’t worth the trouble he’d be in, and drove away trying to act as if nothing had happened.

Nera doubled over in laughter before entering the florist shop. She was surprised by the selection of flowers that were clearly lovingly displayed. The owner clearly knew what they were doing and had immense pride in their craft. Which is why the man behind the counter, there was something strange about him, was such a surprise. He looked like he would be more at home in front of a seedy bar, checking IDs and chucking out drunks.

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The man didn’t even acknowledge her as the door tinkled behind her. She didn’t mind too much, but the quiet of the shop was slightly unnerving. She walked to the display in the middle of the store with the pre-made bouquets and picked one that looked nice. Admittedly they all looked nice. She brought it to her nose, and gods the smell was incredible. Solana would definitely approve.

She gently set the bouquet on the counter in front of the man reading a magazine. His shoulders were broad and muscled, his head completely devoid of hair. Nera finally realized what was so strange about him - he’s a half-troll. He didn’t look up as he finally spoke, licking his finger and turning the page in his magazine far more daintily than his thick hands should have allowed.

“13 creds,” he said with the tone of a man who had better things to do, and none of them involved her.

“I’m paying in Sil,” she said, setting down the silver coin.

The man looked about ready to burst a vessel in his forehead. It was a particularly unappealing look on his sickly amber skin.

“Yer paying in creds, or yer getting out of my shop. I’m not taking yer filthy underworld currency,” he growled, setting the magazine down and pointing at the door in a manner that suggested he was not going to negotiate. He towered over her and glared in a manner that would make most people balk. Half-trolls were

“I’m paying in Sil,” Nera said, smiling back confidently and not backing down in the slightest. She’d won battles of will with things far viler than some uppity mid-town florist, “and you’re going to be damn grateful I’m not just taking the flowers.”

“Ye nasty little punks are all the same,” he said, pulling something from behind the counter, “Ye lord over your weak punk friends and think yerself tough enough to do what ye like to decent folk who work hard. 13 creds, before I really lose my temper.”

Nera laughed in his face, then ducked as he brought a short club slamming through where her head had been a split second ago. It whipped through her long hair instead, and she brought her fist up into his rock hard gut. She gulped as it did little more than annoy the man.

“I’m gonna enjoy dumping yer corpse in the alley out back,” he grunted.

Nera dodged back, but not fast enough to avoid his knee glancing her nose. She gasped as she felt it break. She could feel rage building up inside her, but she did her best to tamp it down just like Olise, her old gang boss, had taught her to. She coldly regarded the lumbering man charging her like a bull.

Just when he was about to swing again, she stepped back and opened the glass door to her left full force into his face. He screamed as shards of glass cut his face.

“My face, what did you do?”

She spun and kicked full force behind his knee. She could hear more glass cracking under his weight as he fell onto his back. She brought her heel up and stepped with all the force she could muster right into his face. His head fell to the side as he lost consciousness.

“13 creds?” she asked the unconscious man at her feet, “I think I can manage that.”

She dropped the bills for the flowers, plus extra for the broken glass door, on the man’s unconscious body before grabbing the bouquet and her sil, and leaving with the bell tinkling merrily behind her.