Guilty Until Proven Innocent

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, "Tell you what, we'll swap numbers, give me a call when your ready and I'll pick you up. We'd look less conspicuous going in as a couple anyway." He waited for a snide remark, but none came.

"I'll need to book into another hotel so that I can get showered ready for tonight, hows that plan sound so far?"
 
Tanya pulled a napkin over and scribbled her number on it, taking the paper that he handed her and putting it in a coat pocket.

"Okay, get a place to stay but, for god's sake, get some money from the ATM in the next town and pay in cash. And use a false name. Find a place that wont check ID. If Smythe finds out your here he will run like hell."

Thinking about how well he had followed her instructions so far, she sighed again. "On second thought, get into your car and follow me, you can hang out at my friend's apartment until that time. Then we are sure to leave no leads for him to catch onto."

Getting up from the table, she threw a five dollar bill on the table and walked out the door to her car, waiting for him to follow her.
 
He pulled some money out and threw it next to hers on the table before following her out of the cafe. He watched her get into her car before slipping behind the wheel of his own and followed her through the maze of streets until they arrived at the destination. He parked up next to her, he was impressed to say the least. "Nice place, looks costly." She didn't say anything which he took as a sign that their at throat relationship was beginning to be one of mutual tolerance. "Your friend just lent you this place?"
 
Tanya shrugged and went to the door, the apartment was on the first floor, unlocking it with the key and gesturing him inside. Following him in, she locked the door and took off her jacket to reveal her smooth tanned skin above the black halter, white scars here and there the only thing else that contrasted her skin tone.

Turning to throw the jacket on a chair, the gun he had in the motel room is revealed nestled at the small of her back. From the heavy look of the jacket it's clear that more arms are in pockets within it.

"In this line of work it helps to have friends in both high and low places. This way I don't go telling everyone that I'm in town. It helps when you dont want to send warning flags to your jumper and have him burrow underground before you can find him."

Turning to look at him, she asks,"Would you like a drink? Soda? Beer?"
 
"I'll have a soda thanks." He said while taking off his jacket and finding a hook for it. "I haven't drunk since..." He stopped wavered looked at a painting and pretended to be impressed by the detailed colours and brush strokes like his art teacher used to tell him to.

"Since?" Tanya asked handing him the drink,

Subtle..."Since Jill died. I figured drinking would lead down a dark road." He took a sip, "Thanks." He watched her move passed him, noticing the scars on her tanned smooth skin and for the first time since she barged in on him this morning realised that she was attractive. For a bitch. "So whats your story."

"What?"

"You know all about me. So whats your story?" He drank somemore.
 
Opening up her diet soda, she sipped at it and shrugged. "Whats to tell. Daughter of a cop who got fatally wounded while in a shootout with an escaped con." For a moment the hardness in her eyes flickered at the memory but soon they were back to normal. "So now I chase down the escapees and make sure that the one I'm after doesn't kill any cops like my father."

Which was only half the story. He had commented on how she didn't want anyone getting killed. Well, there were alot of people who ended up dead that day along with her father. Some of them were kids her age or younger, some were adults. All were hostages who got in the crossfire. The pictures in the newspaper and on the news didn't leave very much to the imagination.

"See, simple." She gave him a tentiive smile. "Make yourself at home. Steve won't mind. Whatever we use he has plenty to restock. In fact he keeps stuff stored just in case I show up. The only stipulations are that I leave the place standing when I'm done."
 
He felt like he should feel sorry for her, atleast say something but he couldn't. It was then that Hank realised that he hadn't been able to feel for others at all, he hadn't cared about anyone else for a long time, just his own grief. He looked up from his glass to see Tanya looking at him, realising that his eyebrows were crunched into a fist frowning over his revelation. Did she say make youself at home?

"That sounds cool. Do you mind if I grab a quick shower?" He asked,

"Knock yourself out."

"Thanks." He put his soda on a coaster and made his way to find the bathroom. Looked damned expensive too. He stripped, closed the door and jumped in, pulling the shield across and turning on the hot water. Letting some of his stress flow off of him and down the drain. Thank god a working shower, Hank hated hotels...
 
Tanya set her coke down on a coaster on the coffee table. Another fetish Steve had. He was a real neat nik but he was a great friend too.

Walking into Steves room she began to go through his clothes pulling out a shirt and pants that would look less conspicuous than what Hank was wearing right now.

Heading to the bathroom, she didn't even knock, but walked in and set the clothes down. Turning she gave the blurred image that was him behind the textured glass door a raise of her eyebrow.

"There's clothes on the sink. You and Steve are about the same size. They'll look better than what you are wearing. Steve has a thing for those kind of clubs. Where do you think the money for this apartment comes from?"

Leaving, she shut the door and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. She had eaten about as much as she had slept lately.
 
He nearly made a verbal comment when he turned around to see Tanya blurred visage moving about in the bathroom, when she advised him of the clothing arrangement he agreed and thanked her as she left. When he decided it was inaporpriate to be horny he finished soaping himself down before rinsing off.

Another ten minutes and he was dressed in his own trousers, and a towel around his neck. He carried out Steve's clothes and hung them over a chair finding Tanya staring in disbelief, "I can't see any point in getting them creased before we go." He turned away from her and used the towel to finish drying his hair unintentionally showing off his broad shouldered back, obviously toned from years of training, but showing signs that he had not done so in a while. Not since his disapearance anyway.

"Look, thanks for letting me come over like this." He was still facing away from her, somehow trying to keep his pride though attempting to make amends, "I'm sorry about how things have happened so far, I just need to do this. I don't know if you understand, but I have to." He turned around slowly, not knowing what to expect in return.
 
Tanya had cut her sandwich and was sitting on the kitchen counter top eating half of it and drinking her coke when he came out of the bathroom. She let her eyes run over his bare torso, mentally taking notes. By the time he turned back around she was concentrating on her sandwich again. Nice. Not too broad, not too skinny. Needed to go back to the gym though, the absence from it was not too noticible for anyone not trained to notice small things but it would be if he neglected it too much.

"You might be surprised," She said in an offhanded way. It had been a long time since she had confided her feelings in anyone and she didn't plan to start doing that now. Besides, getting close to anyone didn't make sense in her line of work.

Finishing her sandwich, she put away the dishes and wiped down the counter, going over to her jacket and emptying the pockets of all her weapontry. There wasnt a pocket that wasnt filled with some kind of device, weapon or explosive. She added the gun she had taken away from him as well as the bullets to the pile. Laying it all out, she began to take inventory and clean her guns in preparation for that night.
 
Hank mad himself compfortable in one of the chairs in the living area, keeping a spare eye on Tanya. The television had nothing on it except the usual dribble which he avoided even when he was young enough to think it might be cool.

When he got fed up of the box he tried to start up conversation with her again, "I take it you don't like to be caught unprepared then?."
 
Tanya chuckled, a smile coming to her lips. "What can I say? I was in the Boy Scouts til they figured out my secret." Her smile, something rarely seen, tells him she is jesting.

Putting down her gun, she looked over at him. "Look, Hank, I know you're hurting. I know what drives a person to revenge. I also know that sometimes that revenge can destroy he person who seeks it. When you can't focus on anything but that anger inside of you, changing you into something resembling what you hate, it leaves you with nothing. You cant eat, you cant sleep, you cant focus on anything but that hard core of hate that lays in your stomach like a rock."

With a huge sigh, she reaches for her cigarettes and lights one, sitting back as she smokes. "You seem like a decent guy. You loved your sister, you love your folks, you just dont know what to do with the hurt inside. I'd hate to see a nice guy caught up in that cycle. Just keep that in mind while we try to find Mr Smythe. You can get out of this without that happening to you if you just use your head."
 
He looked at the guns. He looked at her and then sighed, "I understand.

"I know where you're comming from on this one, God knows I know. But I haven't found myself yet, this is going to sound completely crazy to you I'm sure. But Jill's death, Smythe, I introduced her to him. After he...killed her....I forgot who I was, I'm not even sure if I was ever a person before. Nothing seems normal.

"The world, the people everything is distant and decaying. This search for him, has given me purpose, I was once told that a person only finds out who he truly is when everything is taken away from him."

He looked directly at her, wondering if anything that he was saying made sense, he wasn't sure if he would articulate his words the way he wanted to. Did it matter? "If I don't follow this through to its end, then I'm not going to find myself at all Tanya."
 
Tanya shook her head and started reloading her weapons. "You didn't cause her death, Hank, you weren't responsible for her dying anymore than..." She stopped speaking, seeming to catch what she was saying and cutting it off before something could be revealed she didn't want revealed.

"You weren't why she died. If you hadn't have introduced them they would have gotten together in another way. Sometimes people are just meant to meet and it will happen no matter what. Some events are just going to happen and theres nothing you can do about it." She snapped the chamber of the last gun shut and looked up at him,"Except go on."
 
OOC: Too slow for this thread!

I think I'll step aside. I'll just hold this thread up at my rate of posting.

Anyone want to step in and take over my character? I just have the one post, so if you have another character in mind it won't be hard to erase or edit. Perhaps this should go through BlueEyedLady so that inconsistencies are not introduced.

Bye.
 
Mr Taylor

When our company advertized for a new staff member we perused the resumes with great interest., One in particulatr attracted our attention, and we called her in for her interview, which was impressive

She was a very good looking blonde lady, and well qualified according to her resume and references.

The big problem for a publishing company offerring a retail oriented clientele magazine, is that we compete very hard for advertising dollars. We knew that Jill could handle the in house work, but the question was how she would react to the attention of company executives whom we were trying to sell advertising space to.

We have to attend many social events, where her beauty and personality would be a plus and it would be a pleasure to have her in my company. I tried to explain the probem and she assured me she could handle it with grace and with aplomb.

The very first cocktail party we attended together was a shock to her. Men were all over her trying to get a date with her. One really greasy bastard who controlled the advertising budget for our biggest client approached me and told me right out that unless she slept with him he would transfer his account to my competitor. I was taken aback and was forced to tell him I would see what I could do.

I rescued Jill from a crowd of hustlers and took her aside and told her what had occurred. She turned bright red and exclaimed that I was pressuring her to be a whore for the company to further our success.

I told her she was under no obligaton to do that, and she stormed out of thr party and grabbed a cab home

The next day her lawyer presented me with a summons accusing me of sexual harassment. There was nothing I would like better than having a sexual liason with her, but I was careful about that. I only presented the offer to her with the promise of a substantial bonus if she accepted the greaseball's demand for sex

The problem was that if this became public knowledge the stockholders and top management would raise hell and we couldnt afford the public image

After the process server left, I had to consider the options, which were few and unpleasant.

If she wouldnt withdraw her suit, we would have to find a way to get her out of the picture somehow. I thought of a solution, but hoped it wouldnt have to come to that
 
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Jill Meyers

There was no indication that Jill’s duties would range further than those advertised or written into her job description when she was taken on. The interview had been reassuringly formal and had made Jill think on her toes. She shook Mr Taylor’s hand as he welcomed her to the company.
This was going to work out very well … or so she thought!

And for the first month it did.

Jill knew the business. She invested a lot of time in basic leg work: Posting off personalised cards, introducing herself and making retailers and manufacturers alike aware of her new role on such an influential magazine.

That was why that first cocktail party had proved such a shock!
She should have realised when Mr Taylor “briefed” her on the need to be “sociable”, that her looks as well as her ability would be a draw to prospective investors and advertisers. Jill was no stranger to attention and was skilled at redirecting attention paid to her when it got … troublesome.
What she could not deal with was the idea of her boss acting as a pimp!

The fact that Mr Taylor could even consider asking her to sleep with some creep as an incentive for business was outrageous! Her face burned when she thought of the scene she’d caused, how she’d stormed out. She’d gone straight round to her boyfriend’s place. Brandon had been so sweet. He’d been surprisingly calm, although obviously angry. He’d soothed her and reassured her and the next day he had driven her over to his own lawyers who had advised her and accompanied her back to the office to renegotiate her “terms of employment”.

It wasn’t the ideal scenario, but after a jittery week, Jill soon settled into the routine. Mr Taylor had been told that if there was any repeat of sexual harassment or coercion that Miss Taylor would bring a lawsuit so fast, his feet wouldn’t touch the ground!
That certainly seemed to do the trick.
Jill went to social functions alone from then on, or with Brandon if she needed an escort. She suspected that Mr Taylor was just looking for an opportunity to sack her, but turnover and sales figures proved her professional success!

In a short 6 months, Jill carved out quite a reputation for herself!

Eager for a mention in the magazine, companies would send Jill "samples" of their latest cosmetic products, invitations to their openings and even a selection of their new lines of clothing.
A line in her column, they knew would boost their sales.
And then if she offered to run a feature...
Jill's endorsement had a magical touch to a product's turn over.

And with such success, Mr Taylor quite literally couldn’t touch her!
 
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Brandon Smythe

Brandon went through the window of the motel head first. Using one of those nearly transparent hotel towels to shield his flesh from the glass, he went diving out the window. He in the ground in a lump, and groaned aloud.

"Found my fucken keys...shit!" He stood and threw the towel into the dumpster, kicking at the small pile of glass and sending it scattering away. He could hear the two men inside, kicking hard at the door trying to get into the bathroom. He wasn't sure who they were, but he was pretty sure they were connected to his employer.

Brandon stood for a moment and looked. He was finding the shot, and there it was. He started walking. A stroll, into a brisk walk, into a rolling gait and then he was jogging. But it was a work of art when he started to run. He'd always been a runner. In highschool, everyone called him 'Zulu,' because they figured he could run fourty miles and still have enough energy and werewithal to give a toast at a wake.

His breathing became slightly labored, and mechanical in it's precision. Not to little air so as to run out of oxygen, but not to much air so as to tire the lungs. His arms pumped up and down beside him as his feet quickly ate up the distance from the motel. He was running to a gas station. Roughly eight miles away, it should take him about an hour to get there, if he didn't press himself to hard. He ran and he ran and he ran. He didn't stick to the roads either. He dodged traffic, cut through buildings, moved through alleys, he did everything he could think of to dodge his pursuers. Then he passed an ATM.

"Money," he thought as he ran past the ATM, then he took a left, and another -- then another. He stopped outside of where the camera saw at the ATM. Looking about, he found himself some paper, which went over the camera. Then he swiped his card, and pulled as much cash as he could.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the cops froze his accounts, and the $500 dollar withdrawl limit was working against him. Stepping out of camera range, he started to run again, but this time, he had more than the cost of a vending machine sandwhich on him.

He ran straight to the gas station, he knew where it was because he got a hell of a picture outside once. A stabbing...he got the front page with that one. So he went inside, about half out of breath and starting snatching things off of the shelves. Paying for them, he entered the rest room.

He dyed his hair. Sandy Brown went to pitch black. He opened the pack of smokes and piled them in the sink, setting the whole pile of cigerettes aflame. Then he put his eyes in the smoke, letting them grow very angry, red and inflamed. He looked in the mirror through the smoke.

"I look wasted...good!" He filled the sink with water, soaking his little bonfire. Then he pulled off his white shirt and put it in the ash filled water, before drying it under the hand dryer. That took some time, but nobody knew he was here.

Now his shirt was grey, and filthy -- and stank. He stepped out of the rest room, looking very different from his normal self. Then he started to walk towards work.

He needed information, and his boss probably had some, and as such, he was off. "Whom ever lit Jill on fire will wish he had never met me," Brandon thought to himself, as he absentmindedly cracked his knuckles.
 
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Jill Meyers

Finding out about Mr Taylor’s … hobby … hadn’t happened overnight.
In fact, looking back, Jill was amazed that it had taken her so long to piece together, but she was so busy looking out for herself and making sure she didn’t give anyone a legitimate excuse to criticise her that those small clues went unnoticed.

Of course, after her experience, she should have known.
But he was clever … so clever.
Models came and went all the time … from the agency.
As MD of course Mr Taylor was the one to OK the final layout. Products were her field, writing the articles.
Sure she knew about photography … serious stuff … but she left the glamour part to those with an eye for it.
And Mr Taylor certainly had an eye for the ladies.
But that was all it was, as far as Jill knew.

And then the usual girl in the office left and a series of temps followed.
Jill began to wonder just what was going on.
She felt uneasy, some instinct told her all was not right, but she could hardly call her lawyers again based on that!

It had been pure coincidence that first time.
The call had come through … some small fire in a remote stockroom and Mr Taylor had ran... leaving his office door unlocked and his laptop in standby mode.
With the office in turmoil, it had been easy to slip in, easy to check out the histories …explore his documents … all to easy to discover what he’d been up to.

The next time was calculated. Jill was prepared.
She knew it was risky.
He would be angry if he discovered her invasion of his privacy, but if she got the evidence he couldn’t touch her... or any of the other women he came into contact with!

Patiently, she waited, until Finally the occasion arose one Friday afternoon.
Quickly she slipped into his office and seated herself at his laptop.
Again she clicked on the “My Documents” folder, but this time she clipped the tiny removable hard drive to the USB port and began to download.

Mesmerised she watched the screen as she each document was copied over onto the tiny keydrive she’d bought in preparation:
JPEGS of girls she recognised, models she’d worked with.
Even some video footage of him “in action”.
Trophies of his “conquests”.
But they weren’t real conquests.
Even from an initial glance, Jill suspected these girls had been slipped something to encourage their co-operation.
Those were the lucky ones.
Some of the pictures … well … Jill knew about staged photographs after her time with Brandon and Jill could see that Mr Taylor enjoyed ... making ... his girls co-operate!

She shivered in revulsion and glanced towards the door.
Sighing in relief as the download completed, she quickly she closed the disk down, removed it and clipped it to her key ring before leaving the laptop as she had found it.
Clipping the key ring to her car keys, somehow Jill managed to complete the rest of that afternoon and managed to walk calmly out of the office.

Only later, at home did it all sink in.
Jill was shocked by what she’d found out and now that finally she had more than enough evidence she wondered what the most effective line of action would be.
Jill knew Brandon would advise her.
He was on assignment that evening, but due to come round the next day.

But then it all went wrong.

Not having slept that night, Jill was exhausted.
All morning she paced her rooms, watching the clock, waiting for Brandon to appear.
Finally realising her agitation would do no good, Jill pulled out her bikini and laid herself outside to sunbathe and then finally under the soothing heat of the sun she slept…

It was all her fault of course!
How could Brandon have known how she'd react?
But hearing the shutter and awakening to see the camera pointed at her brought all those images back to her.
And so she took it out on Brandon.

She asked him to stop. He laughed.
She told him to stop. He tried to reason with her.
She shouted at him to stop, unable to explain how freaked she was by the images she had stumbled upon.
And he left ...

leaving her more upset and agitated than before.

Jill sighed, glancing over seeing his jacket still laid across a chair.
He would be back … but how long would it take?
Last time he had been out of touch for three whole days …
But she needed him now!

Driven by her sense of guilt, Jill had pulled shorts and a t-shirt over her top.
She had picked up her sunglasses and handbag and gone to pick up Brandon’s jacket, smiling finallly as his car keys ahd fallen out.
He hadn't gone far. He would soon come back ...
But just incase, she would still go after him.

Jill stooped and picked up the keys pausing as an idea struck her.

She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she unclipped the keydrive securing it carefully to Brandon’s, linking it securely to his house and car key.
Perhaps just superstition, after all who could know what she’d done?
Unless you were looking for it, the ”keydrive was easily overlooked.
Finally Jill had unwound enough to laugh at herself and her overcautious act!

But of course, Jill was no computer expert.
What she hadn’t realised was that by inserting the keydrive, Mr Taylor’s laptop had created an extra icon within his MY COMPUTER folder.
The next time he tried to save a document, he would see it.
He would know that … someone … had used a device to remove data from his computer.
Fortunately he had no way of knowing what the device looked like, what data had been copied or who the person was.
But of course, it wouldn’t take much thought to find most of the answers!


Eager to make amends with Brandon, Jill hurried out of the door, unclipping just a single house key and thrusting it into the pocket of her shorts, her own car keys thrown back into the bowl where she kept them.

But of course …
Jill never met up with Brandon …
And she was never seen alive again …
 
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Mr Taylor

The sexual harassment issue seems to have subsided. Jill was doing a great job and our circulation and then our advertising revenue increased exponentially. The asshole from our biggest client made good on his threat to move his account to our competitor, but now he was trying to place ads with us again and we had very little space available. Our backlog extended out over a year with our rates more than dfoubled, all because of Jill and her fine work

How she accomplished it all was a mystery to me, but all she would do when I tried to ask her was to blink her eyes and ask "who? little old me?"

I suspected she was making good on the previous offer, but cutting me out of the action

Meanwhile I had a good thing going. Several of the models we used reguarly were engaged in a sideline with me, where we would rent them out as escorts for the night and then split the proceeds which were substantial. That was what I wanted to get Jill into, until she reacted so violently that night. I had a "library" of samples on my computer I could sent to customers to show what these girls had to offer, and for up to $5000 a night they offerred a lot.

I got my action too, as we kept them in practice and recorded the sample images on the puter.

My partner in this endeavor was a Mafia type, with connections back to Sicily, so this wasnt just a local deal. It was international. the surprising thing was that as new models came from the agency that my partner owned, the girls would participate without hesitation. I never knew what power he had over them, but I used it for great financial gain, and our connections made a good market for the operation.

One day while i was working on a deal, we had a distraction. A fire and I had to run to see what was going on, and like a fool I left my puter on and office unlocked. When I got back I discovered someone had been playing on my keyboard and the only one around was Jill, who had suddenly left.

I called my Mafia colleague and put out the word and left the dertails to him
 
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There was something un-natural about finding women with guns attractive. Tanya by herself was a modestly good looking woman, but playing about with the guns opened a hole new kettle of fish.

"Would you mind showing me how to use one of those. If I promise not to shoot myself in the foot." He saw her suddenly glare at him, and thought that the past half hour of breaking down their defences was all for nothing, "Just for defence, I have no intention of doing a Rambo anymore." That was more than half the truth, he was willing to ask questions before shooting.
 
Mr Taylor

"Tony? Come si va? hey we got troubles. That broad Jill- you know her - she's the pretty blonde you wanted me to get to sleep with you remember? Anyway she broke into my computer and downloaded all the shit about the babes. You know - all the pics Brandon took for us, that we use for samples to sell the girls to our clients"

"Anyway she took off and I know she has the goods on us for our little operation. Get ahold of Brandon and put the arm on him - he's her boyfriend you know. Find out where she is and put the snatch on the snatch if you capisce. (thats Italian for "you understand")

"Put her on ice so she cant get to the cops or my boss and pull the rug out from under us. We have a big party scheduled for this weekend and four of our girls at 5 Gs each is a nice piece of action. In fact think I'll go too. That Monica you sent over last week is a hottie. Where'd you get her anyway?"

"Oh, she's the daughter of that guy that owes you all that money? neat deal. well tell her I'm her date for the weekend, and call me back when you have Jill locked up will you? Ok -Arrividerci"
 
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Jill Meyers

Jill scurried down the road and around the block.
Where would Brandon go?
She crossed the road and started to walk through the park.
She knew that in his more "reflective" times, Brandon would hang out around here.
But there was no sign anywhere.

Surely he hadn't got such a head start on her?
But maybe he was that pissed with her that he'd headed out for a drink.
God... he knew she hated it when he got falling down drunk!
Perhaps that was the way he would get his own back ... this time.

Jill sighed heavily and began to walk to the more remote side of the park.
Jill knew that if she walked to the East boundary she could cut through the wasteland, head towards the docklands.
That was one of Brandon's hangouts.
Why exactly, she wasn't sure.
She knew he sometimes went to a club there... "Jerry's Armpit".
Journalist contacts sometimes met up with him there, he'd told her, but it wasn't the place to go alone ...

She hesitated wondering what to do.
So preoccupied was she that she was unaware of her surroundings:
Unaware of the silence.
Unaware of anyone who might be following her, who might be drawing near ...
 
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Brandon Smythe

Brandon was running across town to go to work. But then he thought of something else, "They'll be watching work, to see if I come back. I need some help."

But where could Brandon find help? Well he could find it at Jerry's Armpit. He had been avoiding the area ever since Jill died. Everyone knew he went there regularly, and so he didn't go there. Of course, he had been in a Star Bucks right after his and Jill's last argument, but he had been out of prison on bail for some five hours now, and he had to go back now. He needed a gun, and Vinny could do that.

Brandon moved to an alley, and looked to see what he had on him. A pack of gum, his wallet with $27.34 in it, his keys, and a small pocket digital camera. He looked at the small pile in his hands. "Keys...house...work...car. Traps? Mail box." Brandon stepped out to the road to get his bearings.

Then he ran south, neither to Jerry's Armpit, nor his work. But to the Post office. He ran for nearly twenty minutes, stopping once to get a bottle of water. $26.34 remained. He ran into the post office box area, and went to his box. In goes the key, the door opens and he finds a brown paper covered box. This he pulled out and set down, then he stuffed his keys in the box and shut the door. Now in order to get his keys out, he'd have to talk to the employee's and prove his identity. He grabbed the box and went back outside, around the mail box and near the dumpster.

Upon opening the box, he relized what he had been shipped. It was a batch of stills. It was a small care package that could be sent to over sea's clients so they could pick whom they wanted when they got into town. On the front it said under the mailing address, "Return to Sender."

Brandon stuffed everything back into the box and went to place it in the dumpster, then he thought different of it and dug in the dumpster until he found a plastic bag. Wrapping the package up tight to keep it water proof, he climbed the dumpster and put the package on the roof, near a fixture, to keep it safe.

"Now I gotta get a gun," he said to himself as he started to run north again. But this time, he only had $26.34, his ID, his gum, a bottle of water, and his tiny camera. "Maybe Vinny will trade for the camera," he thought to himself as he ran. A finger went to rub his eyes, keeping them nice and red.
 
Jill Meyers

Images flitted in and out of her head and yet none stayed.
She tried to grab at each reality only to have it recede once more as her brain fogged.
Jill groaned.
Her head pounded.
She tried to move, but found her body felt too heavy.
She did not even question where she was, or who she was with.
Her mind was not yet functioning on that level.
Her eyelids fluttered, showing her imminent return to consciousness.
But then her body relaxed with a soft sigh as her brain once more sought refuge in the haze of unconsciousness protecting herself from the garish reality that would present itself quickly enough once she awoke.
 
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