Virtues

by Sir Alexander Wolfgang

Generous

Remy drove her car through the morning snow, deep in thought. In the back seat were two blubbering children who had just seen their best friend die, and were in store for god knows what, probably years of therapy.

She looked at the one she wasn’t related to. The girl was rugged, clearly from around here. She hugged the driver’s sister, as tears of pains she knew assaulted them from any front harbored in their minds.

Both their outfits were dirty, and torn, just like the humans inside of them.

Remy turned her eyes back to the road, searching for someplace to slow down, and stop. She found it, just inside of the forest from which they came, and she turned to look at both of the girls who paid her no attention.

“G-Girls?” Remy said. They still wept.

“Girls?” She said again, though louder. She would have said it a third time, louder, but she knew that to be ill thought, given their states.

She put the car back into reverse, then drive, and sped home. She couldn’t ask the poor girl a thing, not while she was like this.

---

Remy’s home was in Manehatten. She parked her car in the garage just a single block away, and they walked the rest of the way. The two girls, whimpering now, walked side by side. They kept their heads down, and spirits lower all the way to the building, and up the stairs to her tenance.

Remy unlocked the door, and stepped inside. She had calls to make, and these two needed to bathe.

She herded them into her apartment. Everything in her home was a pristine white, or a happy purple. The girls both say on a white couch, and both were sullenly present before Remy.

Remy got onto her knees in front of Bloom, and she spoke “Poor girl, I’m so sorry, but I must know your address.”

She tried to put a voice to words, but some restrained mumble was all she could produce.

Remy nodded, then looked down. It was too soon to ask her for anything, so she would not.

She stood up, and walked towards the hallway, motioning for them to follow her. They did do, slowly. Remy walked into an unlit room, and felt for the switch. A brief flash gave it luminance. The room was revealed to be just like the rest of her house. White, and purple, with traces of other colors.

Against the far wall was a bed that was more luxurious than what Remy deserved, but not more expensive than what she could afford. The young girls walked in and looked up at Remy. Their eyes were red, with evidence of their weeping still fresh.

“This is my room. You two will be sleeping in here, alright?”

They nodded, curtly. Sheeni, Remy’s sister, walked to the bed first. Bloom followed.

Remy left them to sleep in peace, shutting off the lights. It would be a well deserved slumber for the both of them.

She proceeded down the hallway to her bathroom She needed to think, but with a mind so muddled, she really couldn’t. Perhaps a shower and rest would help her think.

What was she going to do with these children? She couldn’t abandon them, at least not while pretending to be a good samaritan like she usually did.

She turned the shower on, the faucets squeaked like mice, then let warm water cascade down.

They had home’s of their own, but Rarity only knew where one of them lived, and that one was a sister. It was a damn sad situation.

She undressed, hanging her jacket on the back of the bathroom door, and proceeding with the rest of her clothes. Shirt, pants, shoes, socks, bra. As for panties, well, who wears panties these days? She took off her eyepatch last, before glancing into the mirror for the treat of seeing her blind eye. She needed cosmetic contacts for that eye. She was to receive them in the mail, but she hadn’t yet.

She couldn’t let them stay with her, not forever at least. That would be something no one wants. For one: the police would surely find the children here. For two: what she did here was something no child needed to see. For three: she couldn’t watch them while she did what she needed to do.

She stepped into the warm water, it was so welcome from so much time in the cold. The water did its part to melt the frost away from the frosty morning. The blindingly cold winter was no time for a lady to be outside, even if a lady was just something she called herself.

She would have to wait until the search for the two was off. That would be anytime from two weeks from now, to a month. Either way she would be spending a rather large amount of time with them. She would flourish them in the most positive ways she could until that time came.

Remy washed away what little dirt and grime that was on her body away, like she was washing away the sins of a past life, when there are so many sins in her present life to account for. Sometimes she wished she could stop clinging to this life, and just fucking die, but for some reason she kept herself breathing.

Turning the water off, she stepped out of the shower, and onto the mat. She was beyond tired, and it was just now that she realized to what extent. It was the kind of tired you get after not sleeping for a day, that tired that grabs you from your bones, and holds on until you succumb.

Ready to pass out in the guest room, Remy grabbed a towel, and dried herself with it. She didn’t like being wet anymore than her cat did, wearever it was. After focusing on her hair for several minutes, she let the towel fall to the floor, and grabbed her robe. It, like everything else in her house, was white, with purple accents. Aft6er fastening the belt, she stepped out of her bathroom.

Her apartment was cold, and dreary every morning, and this morning wasn’t something special. She rushed down the hallway, into the guest room, and shut the door. With a sigh, she turned out the lights, and let her robe drop away.

The sheets on her bed called to her, to replace her robes. At this moment, they were her lover, and her lover was going to hold her close, and wrap around her every curve like it was going to swallow her. But no, it let her stay there, nestled in warmth. And that was the great pleasure her lover would give her. And it was the greatest pleasure imaginable.

---

Eleven A.M, there was a knock at the door. Remy opened her eyes, and debated on whether or not she should answer. She wanted to stay in bed, sleeping lazily all day. But she was a lady, and aside from that she had two missing girls in her apartment, and she must keep them from sight. As small as the chance was, she couldn’t let them open the door.

She quickly got out of bed, and reached for her robe. It was on the floor, and she snatched it up, quickly securing the belt.

She heard another knock.

“Just a moment!” She said, loud enough for those knocking to hear. She hurried to the room where the two girls were. They were sitting on the bed, rubbing their eyes, just now awakened. “Do not leave this room, understand?” Remy said, as kind as a stern voice could be.

One nodded, while the other hesitated at first.

Remy flashed them a smile, before rushing off to her answer the door She took a fleeting peek through the peephole. Outside were two faces she had never seen before.

There was tall, dark woman, and a man, or rather boy, with messy green hair, and honestly, a pretty cute face. The woman was holding a coat, and a hat in one arm. Her shirt was black, and contrasted nicely with her purple hair. The boy was tugging at his tie, apparently not used to being dressed so formally.

Remy opened the door, and greeted them ”Hello. Who might you be?”

“My name is Detective Terry Spark, and this is my partner.” Her partner gave a polite wave, and a cute smile.

“Oh, I know what this is about.” Remy gave a look of sadness, and hinted on shock. It was acting, all of it. “My sister, correct? She, she’s missing.”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say she is, ma’am. But that isn’t the only thing I’m here for, I’m afraid. May we come in?”

“Yes, of course.” Remy wiped away a fake tear, and let them inside. “Might I get you something to drink?”

“No thank you, ma’am.” Spark said.

“Uh, no thanks.” The boy said.

The two detectives sat on the white couch, and Remy took her spot across from them on loveseat, crossing her legs. “What is it you’re here about, detective?” She continued to act her part of the woeful sister.

“Well, as we combed the sight we found several sets of footprints. At first he thought that one of the kidnappers got away. But as we looked we realized how unlikely that was. Your sister and her friends, they were kidnapped by a gang who calls themselves the Dragons. They’re warring with another gang who calls themselves the Diamond Dogs. I know, you know all about the Diamond Dogs.”

For a moment Remy felt real, genuine, grief. The Diamond Dogs were horrible people, and she knew this from experience. “Yes,” she said grimly, “I know of the Diamond Dogs.”

“Well, we believe your sister may have been taken by them.”

That thought alone, of sweet precious Sheeni being dragged off by those filthy scoundrels made Remy rear up. “And just what do you need of me?” She wiped her eyes.

“Do you remember anything about where they took you? The fronts you were forced into?”

“N-No.”

“Miss, I’m so sorry, but please, if there is anywhere that you can think of, where they might be doing business, please, you need to tell me.”

“No, I’m sorry,but I don’t remember any of that. They kept my eyes covered the entire time. I tried to look once, and this happened.” She pointed to her blind eye.

“I see.” Spark nodded.

A moment carried like an hour, and it was this moment. Remy noticed Spark’s partner occasionally eyeing her. She thought he was cute, yes, and apparently that feeling carried from him, to her, as well.

. Remy turned her eyes back to Spark, but remained aware of Spike’s. She uncrossed her legs, giving him just the faintest site of her most private of places, hiding under her robe. Remy could practically feel the heat rising from his face.

Spark stood up, and pulled something from her jacket, still in her arms. “Ma’am, if you think of anything, please give me a call.”

Remy stood as well, and took what she was being offered, a card with the woman’s number in bold print. “I surely will.”

Sparks put her coat, and hat on, and they left. Spike gave Remy one final glance before leaving.

Remy locked the door behind them.

---

The rest of the day was peaceful, though a forboding shadow hung over it. She needed to do something with these children, but the heat was on, and she couldn’t do anything until it cooled down a bit. People would search for at least a week, and until then, Remy must either care for these children, or think of something, fast.

The children pouted all day, and they never spoke, but they remained well behaved. They bathed, and Remy let them borrow some of her clothes. She tried to talk to them, but they apparently didn’t feel like talking. Who could blame them?

She sat at her computer while the children ate lunch. Before her was a complex network of websites inaccessible to the general public, and unregulated by the government. Thus, oodles of illegal things lingered here. It was known as the darknet, and it was something Remy’s job required her to take part in.

There was a small ping, a signal that she had a notification. She scrolled to the top of the page, and saw that it was a new message. She clicked the little red one, next to the envelope emblem. It brought up that message before her eyes. It was from a Mr. Larson.

Hello! It is unfortunate that I must contact you, but it seems it is a must, eh? They know you have the children, and I advise you to fuck off, before they take them away. Don’t try to contact me.

She was perplexed, and at the same time, worried. Someone knew she had Bloom, and Sheeni, and they aimed to take them away? How? Why?

There was a knock at the door. Remy hurried out of the computer room, and moved the children into her own room.

She walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. Again, there were two people she didn’t recognize. She wasn’t taking chances, not with what “Mr. Larson” had told her. She hurried into her room, just as there was another knock. The children sat on the bed, looking at her. From under it she produced a silenced pistol, and cocked it, then put a finger over her mouth to motion silence to the children, yet again.

She left, and hid the gun in the back of her sweatpant’s waistband. She answered the door, and smiled like a salesperson. “Hello,” she said, “how can I-”

The man, almost an ape, pushed past her, and entered her apartment. “Cut the shit, you bitch, on your knees!” He pulled a revolver from under his coat, and his partner followed, doing the same.

Remy did as they asked, as one shut the door, and locked it.

“Where’s the kids?” One demanded.

“I-I-I” Remy stuttered, but it was all an act.

“On second thought, shut the fuck up.” He looked away, “Start tearing this place ap-”

Remy grabbed his arm, and pointed it away from her, as she stood and produced her weapon, putting it to his chest. She fired three shots, and all went through the man, and into his partner. They slumped to the ground, like sacks. One fell into a glass table, shattering it into a crystal like dust.

She recoiled for a second, but dashed off to the girls. She opened her bedroom door, and saw them there. “Come on, we have to leave,” she said.

They did not hurry.

“Now, damn it.”

They came along, as fast as they could.

Remy grabbed a pair of sunglasses, slipped on some shoes, took her purse, (hiding her pistol in it) and they headed for the door. The children looked at the corpses with eyes wide, and appalled, but not shocked. They could not be shocked any more.

Remy opened the door, but a small, fragile man blocked her path, a neighbor. “What was that noise?”

He looked past Remy and saw the bodies. There was a moment of terror in his eyes, before Remy rammed her gun into his chest, and fired, pulling him into her apartment. He fell to the ground, as blood gurgled out of his mouth, as he rasped for more life, finding none.

The children squealed, and looked at him, but Remy pulled them along. “We have to go, ////now,////” she reminded them.

They left, and Remy slammed the door shut, locking it with small tingling bits of fear. They hurried down the stairs. “Where are we going?” Sheeni asked, a voiced stained with grief.

“Away.”

“Where? Don’t you live there?”

“No, now hurry.”

When they opened the door to the outside, the winter air bit them, and reminded them that they weren’t dressed for this weather. They didn’t run, but they walked as fast as you could walk for a block to get to the garage where Remy’s car was.

The tall, misguided woman, rummaged through her purse, looking for her keys. The kids shivered, and rubbed their arms, trying to stay warm. The woman glanced up at them, then back to her purse. One moment later she found her keys, and pressed a button, unlocking the car. The children piled in, and Remy a second after.

The air in the car stayed as cold as the breath of a dying man, until Remy slid the key into its slot, turned it, and let the car rumble to life. Hot air shot out of the vents, and let them experience a silent rejoice under which they grew only slightly more content.

Remy put the car into reverse, and backed up, then drove away. The dreary grays of the city moved past her, like the groan of an elder unpleased. Slowly, like a drab macabre. She was frightened that any minute now she would find her brains on the dashboard, and the children spirited away by some any-crime thug.

To bystanders there was just a white car, heading from point A to point B. No special story behind it, just a car going along in a never ending stream of other cars, and a driver with dim clairvoyance as to their destination.

They didn’t know that their was such a story here, and they never would. They just knew what they saw, and that was car, and dimly through the window the silhouette of a driver. Nothing more.

---

A young beautiful woman, no more than twenty five, lie snoring on her lovely green couch. Just beyond her hand, in the floor, was a romantic (though sometimes lude) novel. Her pajamas were a cute shade of yellow, that simply fit her in every way. Pink hair made itself drapes to her face, coming down just beyond her shoulders. Cuddled snugly against her neck was small, and adorably mischievous, and ironically named rabbit.

This is how Fay, Fay Shori, spends almost every night. It is a happy existence, one she wouldn’t change for the world. Quiet nights with her fuzzy ball of lagomorphan joy, and a book to fall asleep reading. Because this was simply as good as it could get, for a filthy whore.

A knock at the door startled the woman who slept; she bolted up right between the first two. Her pet scampered away, as she hustled to the door. “Hold on, please!” She softly, very softly yelled to the door.

She reached it, and with a moment’s hesitation opened it. Outside was a purple headed woman, and two familiar looking children she held close to her, passively combatting the cold. “F-Fay.” The woman said through a stiff shiver.

“Oh, Remy!” Fay said, surprised to see a friend at this time of night. “What might you be doing here?”

“W-Well, i-it’s quite a l-ong story,” Remy said, “pardon me, but might we c-come inside?”

“Of course.”

Fay showed them, a truly kind smile painted over the bottom of her face. The children sat on the couch, while the adults went into the adjacent kitchen to discuss things. The floors were polished wood, and reflected everything like water. The walls were a dark pink, that just felt warm, and uncalloused.

“I seem to have garnered a bit of trouble.” Remy said in a worried tone, as if confessing a lie.

“How is that?” Fay asked, sweetly.

“Lets’ just say that two gangsters lie dead in my apartment.”

Fay’s smile faded, “Wh-What?” Fay was caught off guard. She knew murder was not beyond Remy, but it never ceased to amaze her how people can speak of death so casually.

“Gangsters. Dead. My apartment.”

“O-Okay, well. um. How a-am I supposed to help you?”

“I need somewhere to stay,” Remy replied.

“Okay. Th-That’s alright, I suppose.”

Remy stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around Fay in a friendly, lungcrushing. hug. “Thank you, so much, Fay.”

“Y-You’re welcome.”

And Remy was off to speak with the girls, now. One was softly stroking the rabbit, while it slumber in her lap.

Did Fay really want people staying at her house? Of course not, her life was hard enough as it is, considering her profession. But she couldn’t ///not/// let them stay, could she? No, no she couldn’t. Not without compromising something uncompromisable. The only thing that made her feel human sometimes. In a cold, and morally bankrupt society she was of the few with any real kindness left.

---

As the next day passed, giving its slow glance at the world, Remy was stricken with paranoia. Diamond Dogs were the most ruthless, and foul, of all the criminals in Manehatten. She knew this, and so did anyone else with any knowledge of Manehatten. But it was for the children. She needed to stay generous to them, never ceasing to give to them. But how could she give to them when they didn’t want anything?

As if that weren’t bad enough, Remy felt as if she needed to prepare for something. What that was, she didn’t know. She could only worry, and watch over the two fragile children. Whenever there was a crisis of any sort in her life she got over it by preparing, and then acting, but she just didn’t know what to do. Yes, she had many other safe houses, but if they knew where that one was, how could she be certain they didn’t know of the others?

The children sat before her, in the floor, watching cartoons on an old and dusty Television set, seldom used. They hardly spoke, and it worried Remy. They had to be torn up on the inside, screwed up by life, because life hated them, and lashed out at them. She wanted to hold them, and tell them it would be okay, but she knew it wouldn’t help, and she didn’t want to lie to them anyway.

There was a shrill, annoying, beep. Remy found the source to be her phone. She picked it up, and saw that she had a message. She opened it up, and what was before her was perfection. Perfection from a Mr. Larson.

Hello! Sad thing about that deal with those thugs, eh? Nasty bunch indeed, they are. Anyway, this problem won’t just go away. It is in both of our interests that you end it. You simply must, or you, your friends, and those two little girls will suffer. And I know, you know, what kind of suffering I mean.

The Diamond Dog responsible for this, a notorious human trafficker known as Snowflake is the reason for your latest misfortunes. I might add that he is only the start of a malicious, rotting, root, that needs to be eradicated.

I know you have the skill to do this, whether you need to navigate social protocol, or get a little nasty with someone. Well, Snowflake will be no match for you. He’ll be at pier 74 this time next week. Don’t forget it, and don’t come unprepared. He will have some goons with him, I’m sure you know.

You may still be searching for a reason to do this. Well, would fifty thousand dollars do you any good? I’m sure it would. Ask around about me. Do some snooping. I’m sure you’ll find me. Do not forget. You may need to interrogate some people. Scratch that, you will. When you hear the word “pink” you’re on the right string of people. That cool? Ciao.

P.S Snowflake is an albino, so I’m sure he’ll stick out, right? Not only that, but he’s about seven feet tall.

Remy scanned over the text a second time, then a third. This was serious. She looked at the children, still watching cartoons. She put the phone in her purse.

“Sheeni, dear,” She said, as she stood up.

Sheeni turned around and looked at her sister, “Y-yes?” It was the first thing she had said in since Remy had saved her from those monsters.

“I-I” She stuttered, “I’m going away for a while. I’ll be back, soon. Fay will take care of you until then. You can handle yourselves, right?”

“W-why do you have to go?”

It broke Remy’s heart to leave her when she was just starting to talk again. “I-I, it’s just too dangerous for me to stay here. I’m sorry, I really am. You’ll be fine, won’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She remained gloomy, and turned back to the bright colors scattered about the television.

Remy slipped on her shoes, and felt small arms wrap themselves around her. It was the girls. They hugged her, and she hugged them back. A tear escaped her eye, and for once she didn’t over dramatize things. She didn’t have to.

And then, she left. First she would prepare. Then she would act.

---

Snowflake stepped into his office, everything pristine. He took a seat in a humorously undersized office chair, and picked up the phone on his desk, slamming a meaty finger on a button, then kicking back,and relaxing while he waited for his call to be answered.

“Hello?” And old, raspy voice answered.

“The merchandise is in, what’s the plan?” Snowflake replied, his voice low, and baritone.

“Tell the drivers ‘route three’, miboy.” The raspy voice replied.

“I’ll do that. Anything else?”

“No. Let this be concluded, eh?”

“Yep.” He hung up, and lingered a moment in his office. Then, just before he was too comfortable, he left.

The drivers were huddled about, talking, and whatnot. The shadow of shipping containers concealed any detail of their bodies, and only left vague silhouettes. Beyond them were three delivery trucks, each one old, and used.

And then, just outside of each of them, groups of kidnapped, and abducted kneeled, chained together like sausage links. Amongst them four guards stood, each holding a SPAS-12 shotgun. Each one with less moral guidance than a worm.

“You three!” Snowflake said, as he stepped off the metal staircase leading up to his office.

They turned their attention to him.

“Route three.” He said, voice made of false identity, and steroids.

The three men turned to their trucks, as the captured were herded into the trucks, one by one. One driver, a man so young he could be mistaken for a high schooler, turned and looked at them. He grimaced. He felt sorry for these slaves, and he wanted to hate himself. But he thought of the money.

And it was just this one job, right? This is it, no more slave business. Just this once. Besides, he needed the money. That made it okay, right?

“What are you waiting for?” A deep voice asked.

The man turned and looked up at the monster behind him. “Uh, nothing,” he almost squeaked.

“Then get fucking to it.” He turned, and walked back to his office. He scanned over the slaves, and guards one last time before ascending the metal steps to his office.

Each step sounded so odd, and out of place in the cold, quiet night. Perhaps because he was used to the crunch of snow under his boots.

He opened the door, and stepped inside, walking straight to his desk. He searched for his car keys, and pop, pop.

Snowflake fell to his knees with a pained grunt, as they were now useless, and bleeding everywhere. From the corner of his eyes, a shadow approached. He, for once, looked up at someone, face of pure distress.

“Hello, Snowflake,” said a voice yearning for a greater culture.

“Wh-What? Who the fucking hell-” He yelled.

Remy slammed his head into the desk before him. “Keep quiet,” she hissed.

He braced himself on the desk. “I’m going to murder you.” For a moment he was still. Then, in the blink of an eye, he reached his massive hand up for Remy’s throat. She fired her pistol once, the bullet ripped through his hand, he screamed, but Remy pistol-whipped him in the mouth, and he held it instead.

“Don’t scream, or this will get a lot worse.”

He did not respond.

“I’m here on a bit of a lead, you see.” Remy spoke with every bit of pretentious nerve inside of her, “You’re people have been giving me, and mine, some trouble.”

“I’ll fuckin’ gut you,” the words were forced through the blood flowing from his mouth.

“Yeah, interesting,” Remy sat on the desk, crossing her legs. “I’m cleaning house on you fools. You tell me how to get to the others, and I can let you live.”

“Fuck you,” he spit.

Remy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Imbeciles, fucking imbeciles.” She said under her breath. She stood from her place, “No matter,” she said, walking around the desk, and taking a seat in front of a laptop. In front of her was the E-Mail of the behemoth not three yards away.

She scanned through them, deciphering his barely coherent string of words that only just formed sentences. She found the names of two more that needed to be dealt with. A foreigner called “Zecora” and a man named Seth Bermejo. Remy wrote their names on a piece of paper, folded it, and stuffed it into her pants pocket. “Before I go,” she stood and walked next to the kneeling, pained man. “Do you know of anyone who might go by ‘Pink’ or ‘Larson’ ?”

“You gonna kill me?” He asked.

“Indeed.”

“Well, what’s it matter to me, then?” He almost sobbed. “Y-Yeah, some weird chick. She’s a drifter, just came in ’ta town, lookin’ for work with my buddy Seth. Last I heard they’re tryin’ ta’ rip off some cage fighter.”

“Excellent!” Remy exclaimed. “How can I reach him?”

“No, that’s all I’m sayin’.” He wiped his eyes, “You fucking snake.”

She put her gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger.

---

A dark skinned woman in a white, designer coat with fuzzy purple lining, and a black fedora, walked to her car. It was expensive, and paid with the blood of others, just like most of her possessions. She didn’t care. Why should she? She didn’t know the people she killed.

She got in, and cranked it. Just as she put it in gear she felt a piece of cold metal against her neck. “Do not look at me,” a voice commanded.

The dark skinned woman, Zecora, kept her eyes forward.

“Do you know who Seth Bermejo is?”

Zecora cooly nodded her head.

“Do you know where he lives?”

Again, she nodded.

“Drive me there.”

She did just that. “This man you seek, we were soon to meet,” she rhymed.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Zecora looked at the woman behind her in the rear view mirror. “I assume you plan to kill me,” she added.

“What makes you say that?” Remy asked.

“You do not wear a mask, so I should not need to ask.” Her rhyming was almost annoying.

“Yes.”

“And Seth?”

“Him too.”

Zecora waited a moment, cooly navigating the streets. “Why?”

Remy glanced at her gun, “Well, what exactly do you do for a living?”

“I do many things, but for now I keep Seth in line.” Remy expected another rhyme.

“And what does Seth do?”

“He does many things, from what I am told. But we have yet to meet, so sure, I am not.”

“Give some specifics on what you two are up to.”

“Why do you care?”

“I’m holding a gun to your throat, I don’t really think you’re in a position to ask questions.”

“Fair enough. He, and some friend of his are to con a woman into slavery. I am to be sure they do not fail.”

“What happens if they do fail?”

“I would kill them.”

The woman driving pulled up next to an apartment building. “Thank you so much, Zecora,” Remy said. “Now, just how would he recognize you?”

“My coat and my hat, show him where I am at.” Another rhyme.

“You’ve never met before? He knows nothing about you?”

“Correct.”

“Give them to me.”

“What?”

“You’re coat, and hat. Now.”

Zecora took them off, and handed them over, a small sense of finality coming over her. Her time was up. She would be dead soon, but she didn’t care. Why should she?

“Before I kill you,” Remy began, “do you know of anyone who goes by ‘Pink’, or Larson maybe?”

“Yes. The person who hired me to watch over Mr. Bermejo.”

“Where did you last see her?”

“She is a bum, living in Blitz Park.”

“A bum?” Remy wasn't in the slightest surprised. Nothing surprised her anymore.

“Yes.”

“How did she pay?”

“This I do not know, and this I do not question.”

“Thank you.” Remy put the gun to Zecora’s side and pulled the trigger. Zecora struggled a moment, but she succumbed to the wound. Remy pulled her corpse onto its side to ensure it would not slump forward on the horn. She wished she could have been friends with Zecora. Maybe in another life.

She searched her body, finding some rather important documents in her purse. These papers detailed every bit of what was going on between them. This woman they were conning was street fighter. Apparently there was some demand for people like that, and she was unlucky enough to have crossed paths with demons such as these.

Among the papers was picture of Seth. He was balding, and had sunken eyes, like he had been given his share of beatings by an unmerciful world. Remy put these papers in her new coat’s pocket, and almost got out of the car before she heard the beep of a cell phone.

She pulled it out of the coat. It was Zecora’s. Zecora had received a text message from a contact labeled ‘Pie’. Remy opened the text.

Found me yet? Hope so. Lots of money waiting for you. Get rid of Seth, and it’s all yours.

After Seth is dead find me in Blitz Park. He’s not in his apartment, he’s in a shifty little club that hosts fights. It’s between the old liquor store, and a Twenty-four Seven, down an alley behind an old rusty door on Ringo Street. He will recognize Zecora’s clothes. Use that to your advantage.

I know the woman fighting. She will not take the dive. When she doesn’t, kill Seth. Like I said, it’s in our best interest. Maybe kill her too. She knows more than you’d think. Her name is Deandra Dash. Her hair looks like a rainbow, she’s kinda short, kinda tough, and she’s being paid just as much as you are for this fight.

Don’t try and screw me. I’m always watching.

P.S Check the glove compartment. Secret stash of mine. Lots all over.

P.P.S Yes, I’ve kinda been using you this whole time, but you’re still getting back at the Diamond Dogs, you know. Getting them off your sister’s back.

Somewhere inside of her Remy felt misused, but a greater side of her just wanted to kill Seth, and hope there were more like him to kill.

Remy checked the glove compartment. Inside was black eye patch. Just what she needed.

---

The woman stepped over a puddle of blood, then put the heel of her boot against the temple of the mans head. He groaned. She delivered a swift kick, ending his life, skull fracturing.

She stepped back to the woman sitting on the steps before her, producing a silenced pistol from under her winter coat. “But that leaves only you, I’m afraid.”

“Well, hurry it up then.” the other said, almost dismissively.

“As soon as you answer another question for me.”

“Fine, what is it?”

“Why am I tasked with killing you?”

“So you can get a fucking check,” she said so sternly.

“No, darling, I mean, what is the reason someone wants you dead?” Remy waited patiently for an answer. Something to come out of this woman’s bleeding, and busted lips. Something that might justify her death. Something more than ‘She knows too much.’ She had killed so much in her life, not just in this night alone. It had to stop somewhere. And in this way, she could call herself generous.

“Pride.” The woman looked away expecting Remy to end her right there.

The woman did not aim her gun. “Perhaps we can strike a deal, you and I.”

“What kind of deal?” Dash looked up at the woman.

“One that will let you live, and let my conscience have a break.”

“Okay, go on.”

“I know that you were to be paid fifty thousand dollars, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“That is far more than what I am being paid to kill you for.” She lied.

“That so?”

“Yes, yes it is. Now, if you were to tell me who was going to hand that money to you, I would let you live.”

“Okay.” The girl waited a moment, breathing heavily. “From what they told me, It was going to be dropped off by some weirdo girl, does anything they ask her to do.”

“A name, please.”

“Think they called her pink, I don’t know, something with pink in it.”

“Excellent, I know just who you’re talking about.” She put her weapon away, “Now, as for you, I suggest you get far as away from Manehatten as possible.” The supermodel walked away, stepping over the corpse of the man, and away from the woman in shambles.

The snow fell, and for once she felt like she could appreciate its presence. How it looked against the night sky as it fell. She hailed a cab, and requested she be dropped off at Fay’s house. “Xenotime street, love.”

The streets passed by like they were projected, like she was viewing a film. She was disconnected in some sense. But still far too rooted in reality. Tomorrow she would come back to Dash’s apartment in search of the money.

Finally, the driver pulled up to Fay’s house. Remy produced several bills. “Twenty marks?” She asked.

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

She passed him a single twenty-five mark, “keep the change.” She got out, and walked up to the door. On the door was a single piece of paper pinned to it, whiter than the snow. As the driver pulled away, she pulled it off. She read it, then reread it. She was in utter disbelief. How? Why? She fell to her knees, weeping.

Comments

[Twi-Guy]

I see what you did there with the time loop, looking at it from a different perspective. However it was a bit confusing for me, and it didn't really add any new information, except at the very end where we got to take a slightly deeper look at Remy's character. Still, nice chapter all in all and I'll watch for the next one.

[Sir Alexander Wolfgang]

3304762 Thanks! I know it was confusing, I honestly got confused while writing it.