Day 191

Continuation of Day 190.


I slam the door of the room open, almost breaking the cheap plastic slab. Rex isn’t in his rig. I proceed carefully, sliding my rippers out as I crouch down. A good instinct, judging by the shotgun blast through the wall where my head used to be. I move quickly, tensing and slamming through the cheap drywall. My rippers are through his wrist before he can process the white cloud of dust in the air.

He looks familiar. I dig my claws in and spin, putting my back against the wall with him as a shield.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

“Shut up or die,” I hiss, locking eyes with his partner across the room.

Rex is in the chair, bound and gagged. I flick my eyes back to the partner, his blaster leveled at me.

“Found us, huh?”

“You’re careful, Davis, I’ll give you that. Almost didn’t notice when you gave us the slip.”

“Was it the clerk?”

“In some ways. We planted a tracker in your luggage.”

I curse myself mentally. It was stupid not to scan the gear before moving in. Amateur move, Dylan. One that’s currently trying to kill you.

“What do you want?”

“You. Our employer would like a word.”

“Who’s your employer?”

He shrugs sympathetically, like we’re both in the dark, like he’s lying through the teeth I plan on kicking through his skull.

“I have terms.”


“Rex gets cut loose. I drop numbnuts here off with a friend of mine for safe keeping.”

“I can’t let you keep Andy.”

“Then I can’t go with you.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. I take my opening, slicing through a few more of Andy’s arteries as I drop and roll, leveling the shotgun at the man.

“Oh for the love of- we’re not trying to kill you!”

“Am I really supposed to believe that?”

He shrugs again, looking tired.

“Cut Rex loose or you’ll join Andy.”

He sighs, tucking the blaster away and cutting Rex’s bonds. I stand, motioning with my head for Rex to go.

“Will you be okay?” he whispers in my ear.

I nod, not taking my eyes off Goon #2. I hear Rex packing gear. After five tense minutes, he leaves and I lower the shotgun a few inches.

“Where’s your boss?”

“I have to take you. They’ll shoot you without an escort.”

“Put the blaster on the bed and walk to the living room with your hands on your head.”

“What about Andy?”

“Andy’s sixed by now.”

He swears under his breath, gingerly placing the blaster on the bed and walking to the living room. I tuck the hardware into my belt and pull out some ties, restraining the goon.

“Shall we?” I ask, pushing him out the door.

This should be interesting.


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