Allen sat at a worktable in his basement, cleaning his rifle for the last time and listening to a nearby radio.

“While Goodman’s death is a tragedy,-”

“The tragedy is I didn’t kill him sooner.” Allen muttered.

“-we have no time right now to stop and mourn. We need a new leader; one who will uphold the foundations set down by Goodman and build on them. One who will do their part to make the streets of Vegas a safer place. That new leader is right here with me, ladies and gentlemen. Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Kyle Remington.”

The crowd applauded for a few seconds while the grizzled veteran-turned-politician made his way onto the stage and up to the podium.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen.” he began as the crowd settled down. “I understand quite a few of you are still shaken up after the events of this afternoon, and I offer my sympathies. Violence of that caliber is reserved for the battlefield, not a major city.”

He sighed. “Every day, however, we are forced to witness the same level of brutality. We are forced to acknowledge that this once beautiful city has indeed become a battleground. The gangs, the fixers, the entire Vegas underground community…they’ve turned our fair metropolis into a warzone."

A ringtone sounded briefly, and Remington paused briefly before continuing. “Well…if it’s war these people want, then it’s war they’ll get.”

Allen stopped working and looked over at the radio. That didn’t sound like any campaign promise he’d ever heard.

“Step one is making Las Vegas’ finest honest again. I’m sure a handful of you already know this, but LVPD is full of crooked cops. They’ve been killing the good cops, assisting cartels, delaying response teams, and making it all-around impossible to clean up this mess. Even as I speak, private investigators are rooting out these damn snakes and getting the LVPD back in working order again.

“Step two is using the eyes of the people and the soon-to-be-reformed police department to apprehend the street gangs and hired guns that have been running these streets for the last few years. It won’t be easy, given the sheer magnitude of the task, but we’ll be able to pull it off with the combined effort of the people and the police.”

There were a few short cheers from random members of the crowd.

“I won’t lie to you,” Remington continued. “This city won’t be perfect. It’ll have crime just like any other city when all is said and done. However, it’ll be a damn sight safer by the time we get through with it.”

The crowd cheered in approval, and Allen shut off the radio. “Best of luck to you Remington. You’re gonna need it.”

He went back to quietly cleaning the components of his rifle. There wasn’t much to clean, as it had only been two weeks since he’d cleaned it last. He honestly wasn’t sure why he was even cleaning it. He should have found some way to dispose of it and destroy all evidence of his former employment.

For some odd reason, however, throwing away a perfectly good rifle still sounded like a pointless gesture.

Probably because the rifle’s not the reason you’ve been forced to do this for three years.

He sat the rag and barrel down on the table and put his head in hands.

Why do you want to toss it, anyway? The safest place for it would be in that case with you. So who are you really hiding it from?

His nails began digging into his scalp as he silently begged his conscious to shut up.

Oh, of course! You’re hiding it from yourself! That way you can run away and deny that any of this ever happened, just like you started doing three years ago.

Allen got up angrily and stomped upstairs to the kitchen to wash the residue off of his hands, then walked into the living room and sat down in his armchair, rubbing his bandaged torso. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, trying to drown out his conscious.

“Our top story tonight: the assassination of Mayor Goodm-” Change.

“-a victim of the very monsters that he sought to-” Change.

“My little girl screamed when she saw the bl-” Change.

“-Goodman assassinated-”

“-murder-”

“-killed-”

“-assassin-”

SMASH

Allen sat there for a few seconds, then calmly walked over and unplugged the sparking and sputtering TV with the remote stuck in it and went back to the kitchen.

Nice throw.

Shut up. Allen replied as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

Make me. Oh wait, that’s right. You’re out of brandy, aren’t you Butterfingers?

Allen grit his teeth, his temper rising. Would you kindly go fuck yourself?

I can’t. My body can’t twist like that. Also, I have no body.

You’re hilarious.

And once upon a time, so were you. You know, before you decided to let one tragedy rule your entire existence.

You know what!? Burn in hell!

Give it a few years and we’ll go burn together.

Allen sat down at the kitchen table, feeling his sanity slipping away with every second he spent listening to his guilty conscious. Until about an hour ago, he’d been in possession of a magical potion that could calm the voice in his head. Panic threatened to overtake him as he realized said potion was now a pile of glass in the garbage.

Damn shame, too. That stuff had the nicest aftertaste, even if it did render me mute for hours at a time.

Shut. Up.

Or what? You gonna kill me, too? Sorry, but you can’t solve all your problems like that, amigo. I go where you go. You won’t escape me, not even in hell.

Allen felt his nails digging into his scalp as he begged for the voice to stop. If this kept up, he would likely go insane right at his kitchen table.

His head settled upon the table as he continued to battle for his sanity. For once in his life, he wanted to simply stop thinking.

He wanted the voice to stop.

He wanted someone to tell him…tell him honestly…that he wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

Good luck with that. You know as well as I do that the Baileys are the only ones who know you well enough to make a call like that, and their biased as all hell.

Voice was right. He couldn’t trust Skeeter’s or Arnold’s judgement. He needed someone who had no idea what to think of him.

Suddenly, he sat up in realization. Then he was heading for the stairs.

Oh sure, because she’s totally qualified to judge you properly. She doesn’t know anything about you.

Then I’ll tell her.

Seriously? This’ll be rich. Make sure you tell her about the guy you pushed off of Hoover dam.

Allen hesitated halfway up the stairs. What if he told her, and she still saw him as a monster? How would he be able to live with himself knowing that Twilight’s unbiased opinion of him was that he was a monster?

He shook his head and continued his ascent. He might not be able to live with himself in that case, but he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to if he didn’t at least try.

He arrived at Twilight’s door and knocked lightly. “Twilight, can we talk for a sec?”

She didn’t answer.

“Look,” he began. “I know you probably have mixed feelings about me right now, and I can’t say I blame you. You’ve asked me questions and I’ve avoided or outright refused to answer them. I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but if you still want answers to those questions, I’m downstairs in the living room.”

She still said nothing, so Allen sighed and went back downstairs, sat back down in his chair, and waited.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then twenty…

…and he still didn’t hear the stairs creak as she came downstairs.

In fact, he didn’t hear anything upstairs at all.

He went back upstairs, a little extra urgency in his step than before, and knocked on her door again. “Twilight?”

No answer.

He knocked again, harder this time. “Twilight, are you in there?”

Still nothing.

He tried the doorknob, only to spring back in pain as it bit him.

“Fuck you, too.” he said angrily. The doorknob merely hissed in response. He shook his head and turned back to the door.

”Twilight, say something so I at least know you’re alive!”

Silence.

Allen backed up a few paces. “Say something or I’m going to break down the door.”

The only sound was the creaking of the wood boards under his feet.

“Alright, then.” Allen said, then he charged and rammed the door with his good side. The old hinges gave easily under the added force, and the door came crashing down.

Allen picked himself up and took a quick look around the bedroom. Then he got up and sprinted downstairs.

“TWILIGHT SPARKLE YOU HAVE TO BE THE STUPIDEST SMART PERSON IN EITHER OF OUR UNIVERSES!!” he yelled, his voice echoing slightly throughout the otherwise empty house.

((((((*******))))))

Twilight hugged herself tightly as she walked down the darkened street.

Why? Why him, of all people? she thought. Allen had seemed like such a wonderful person. He’d saved her life, given her medical attention when she’d needed it, and even given her a place to stay. He’d done his best to keep her safe and keep her from worrying too much about getting home. He'd been one of the best friends she’d ever had.

Then she’d seen him kill the mayor of Las Vegas.

The connection hadn’t been hard to make. He hardly ever left the house unless it was absolutely necessary; and even when he did, he always took her with him. Then, on one of the few days she didn’t go with him, the mayor of Las Vegas was assassinated.

Allen had obviously been the assassin.

The part that continued to baffle her was why.

At first she’d been shocked. This had been the second time since her arrival that she’d witnessed the brutality this city was famous for, and it still managed to catch her off guard.

Once she’d figured out who the murderer was, however, she’d turned to denial. Perhaps it had just been a coincidence, and everything Allen had been telling her was the truth.

Then the facts disproving her theory had begun to pile up, and her uncertainty had grown exponentially. She didn’t know what to think of him. She’d had to find out for certain, and the only way to do that had been to find out what was in that case.

After she’d seen the rifle, it had been easy to hate him. After all, she’d had no reason not to.

And then she’d hit a nerve by mentioning his parents.

For the briefest moment, she’d wondered if that had also been a lie. His reaction had silenced that small doubt, though.

And now she was walking down the street in the middle of the night, trying to figure out how to feel about the situation. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hate him or hug him tightly and apologize for what she’d said.

She just needed to know why.

Twilight let out a long, pent-up sigh. Unfortunately, the only one with an answer to that question was the man she had just teleported away from; and even if she asked, he was unlikely to give her an answer.

She looked up from the ground for the first time since leaving and stopped.

She was surrounded by tall concrete buildings, which signified that she was no longer in the southern district of Las Vegas. She turned around and looked back the way she’d come, only to groan in frustration at the skyscrapers she’d passed.

She sighed in defeat, realizing she was now hopelessly lost. She would’ve tried just teleporting back, but there was a rather large problem with that plan: she was out of range. While she had no idea exactly how far away she was from Allen’s house, she could almost guarantee that she wasn’t skilled enough with the spell to make that kind of jump. If she tried it, she might end up being spread all across this plane of reality.

Let’s just try and retrace our steps, shall we?

As she turned and started back the way she’d come, however, there were three things she failed to realize.

The first was that she was on camera, though that in itself bore no consequence as long as she didn’t use magic.

The second was that she was in the general area where Allen had rescued her, which was Midas gang territory.

The third was that Jase was watching her keenly, and he had a few more friends with him than before.

And they all had guns.

((((((*******))))))

“I knew this would happen, I fucking knew this would happen,…” Allen muttered impatiently as he listened to the dial tone. The Mach 1 rumbled down the late evening street as he searched for her.

As soon as he’d discovered that she wasn’t in the house, he’d grabbed his night gear and car keys and shot out of the driveway after her. By now she could be anywhere, even (God forbid) the main city. He had to find her before someone else did.

Suddenly the dial tone ended, and a groggy-sounding voice answered. “Huh? Whatcha want Allen?”

“Skeeter!” Allen exclaimed in relief. “Wake up man! I need you to help me find Twilight!”

“Ain’t she with ya?”

“No. She found out, man. She found out I was a fixer.”

The other end was silent for a moment.

“Ah’m sorry to hear that.”

“Forget it, we’ve got a bigger problem. I have no idea how long ago she left. She could be in downtown by now, for all I know. This city’s gonna eat her alive if we don’t find her first.”

“A’right. Ah’ll get in mah pickup and search the southern district. Maybe she was tryin’a get to my place.”

“Alright. I’m headed for downtown then.”

There was another pause.

“Hey Al?”

“Yeah?”

“Ah really am sorry.” Skeeter said sympathetically.

Allen sighed. “It’s not your fault, Skeeter. If I wasn’t such a raging dumbass, I wouldn’t have even gotten mixed up in all that nonsense.”

“I’ve told ya before, you can’t blame yourself for how you reacted!” Skeeter replied firmly. “Anyone else woulda reacted the same way you did!”

“Trust me Skeeter, there’s very few people who would have reacted the way I-”

Allen was suddenly cut off by the sound of an explosion. He looked right and watched as a towering fireball rose from a construction site in the downtown area.

“Skeeter, do you see that?”

“Yeah. Ya think that’s her?”

“Absolutely. Pedal to the metal, man! I’ll meet you there!”

“Gotcha!” Skeeter replied before hanging up. Allen tossed the phone into the other seat.

“How is it that you manage to find yourself neck-deep in trouble every time you leave my sight?” he asked a distant Twilight.

((((((*******))))))

Even if she could hear him, Twilight was far too busy to respond.

Not a minute after turning back towards the southern district, she’d noticed that she was being followed by a man in a yellow hoodie. She hadn’t thought much of it until she saw more men in varying types of yellow attire beginning to surround her, recognizing one of them as Jase.

As soon as she’d seen him, she’d blown everyone in the area off their feet, ran into a nearby construction site, taken cover behind the base of a crane, and fired spell after spell at her attackers.

This had frustrated Jase greatly, who’d been expecting this to be as easy as it had been last time. Apparently, the little girl had been holding back last time, because she was absolutely wiping the floor with them now. Already, two of his comrades were buried up to their necks, a third had been turned into a pig, and still none of their bullets seemed to be hitting her.

Jase had looked around for something to shake this witch off her game, and had settled for the exposed gas tank on a dump truck near her. What he didn’t see was the refueling tanker that was parked close behind it.

Twilight had nearly been knocked out for the second time that week by the resulting explosion. Luckily the dump truck had absorbed a majority of the explosion’s force, which had caused it to sail into the crane that dominated the area and crash down next to her.

Now, as she attempted to bring her heartrate back down to an acceptable level, the bullets suddenly stopped striking her cover. Confused, she peeked over the top at her attackers.

She quickly ducked back as the pipe end near her head gained a few new dents. They must be trying to conserve ammunition. she thought.

She looked around and noticed a scaffold that overlooked a good portion of the battlefield to her left. She teleported to it and conjured a barrier between her and her attackers, then summoned a thunderhead above the group closest to her. She smiled as three of the gang members did a weird jig and then collapsed to the ground, twitching and smoking slightly. She then turned to the remaining four and sent the cloud in their direction.

Unfortunately, just as she was about to fire the thunderhead again, one of the thugs landed a lucky shot on the scaffold’s supports, and the whole structure toppled over. Twilight jumped out with a shriek and landed on a pile of freshly turned dirt, rolling behind it to avoid the gunfire that lit up the area where she’d been not a second before.

She spat out some dirt as she got up, then formed another shield and walked out to take care of the remaining men. She got one and watched him topple over shakily. The others continued to fire, but their bullets merely stopped at the barrier and dropped to the ground.

She was about to take down the remaining three when they suddenly stopped firing and began to retreat. Twilight grinned at their retreating backs, then jumped at spun around at a low groaning sound coming from behind her, her face blanching as she looked up.

The crane was toppling towards her, the dent that the dump truck had left in its side now much more evident.

Well, time to go! she thought as she prepared to teleport again.

Suddenly, pain exploded through her right shoulder, and she fell to her knees in agony. She looked behind her and noticed Jase standing a good distance away, evil smile etched across his face and pistol extended in her direction.

She glanced back towards the crane and, with no time to teleport, threw up the strongest barrier she could muster. She heard it crash for a second, and then felt her shield shatter, then everything went black.

((((((*******))))))

Carl pulled up next to a pawn shop and sat there for a moment.

“You’re sure you don’t want me there?” he asked his partner.

“Yes.” replied Jeff flatly. “I’m the one who screwed up, I’m the one who’s got to face the music. Alone.”

The two friends were silent for a moment, then Jeff opened the door and got out.

“If it’s any consolation, I hear he’s getting demoted.”

“Great. I lose my job, and all he gets is a demotion.” Jeff replied miserably before shutting the door.

He put his hands in his jacket pockets and began walking down the street. Simmons had ordered him to meet him at a bridge a few blocks away so they could ‘discuss his future in the organization’. In other words, he was meeting Simmons so he could hand in his badge and disappear.

He sighed as he walked. There had been no second thought, no rationalization, no anything to stop him from punching his superior. By the time he’d finally come to his senses, it was already too late. All agents on the roof were already staring open-mouthed at Reese as he rolled on the ground, holding his mouth in agony. There had been nothing left to do but walk away.

And now the only thing left to do was hand in his badge.

After a few minutes of walking, he turned a corner and the bridge came into view. Simmons leaned against the side rail staring at the city lights in all their nighttime beauty. Jeff took a deep breath and approached, leaning casually against the rail like his boss and staring at the city.

“I'm going to move here.” said Simmons wistfully.

Jeff looked over at him in confusion. “Sir?”

“I’m going to move to Vegas when I retire. That way, I can come to this bridge every night, lean against this railing, and just lose myself in the majesty of this city.”

“Oh.” Jeff responded simply. “Sir, not to be rude, but could we possibly just get this over with?”

Simmons turned to stare at him in confusion, causing Jeff to stare back in equal confusion.

Simmons decided to end the awkward silence. “Son, why do you think I brought you here?”

“I punched my squad leader in the face earlier today. I thought I was here to hand in my badge.”

“Wait, you punched Reese?” Simmons asked incredulously.

Oh joy. He didn’t know, and now he does. FUCK! “Yes, sir.”

“You floored that egocentric, disrespectful, insubordinate little shit stain who thinks he’s all that just ‘cause his dad’s a higher-up in the federal food chain!?” the captain continued with a grin.

Jeff stared blankly at his boss for a moment, not sure how to process his response. “Yes…sir?”

“Good! You and I are probably gonna get a little heat over that, but it should be nothing major once word gets out that he was impeding a federal investigation.”

“Oh…well good!” Jeff said with his own grin, still having trouble processing his commander’s response. “Sooo…why am I here then?”

“First, what exactly did you say to Reese before you noticed the fire?”

Jeff thought for a moment. “That we needed to lock down the hotel because he was probably in one of the hotel rooms.”

“So what you’re saying is we would’ve caught the guy if you’d been in charge?”

“Well…probably. Yeah, I guess.”

“Fantastic. You can have his job then.” Simmons said as he offered Jeff a small dog tag.

Jeff looked down at the tag that helped all agents distinguish each other from the local populace, noticing this one was marked for second lieutenant. He looked back up at his commanding officer.

“Sir, I…I can’t even-”

He was interrupted as Simmons’ phone rang. “Just get me the Ghost and you can keep it, lieutenant.” Simmons said before answering. “Yeah?”

He suddenly looked back at Jeff, suddenly excited. “You’re sure?”

Jeff stared back at Simmons, wondering what was going on.

“Roger that.” Simmons said before hanging up, then walked off briskly.

“Sir?” Jeff inquired as he hurried to keep up.

“The anomaly’s been spotted in a construction site in downtown, which means the Ghost isn’t far away. Grab Carl and all the other patrol units and get ready for a chase. Tell them to bring the Sweepers.”

“Yes, sir. If I may ask, what are you doing?”

“I want to go meet the bastard who managed to evade the government for almost a week.” he replied simply.

((((((*******))))))

Twilight slowly opened her eyes, then groaned and held her head in agony.

“Ugh…what hit me? A train?” She then looked down and saw the bent framework of the construction crane resting atop her legs. “Oh. Never mind.” She sat up with a grunt, hissing as the bullet wound in her shoulder flared in agony, and took a moment to look around the construction sight.

It looked like an absolute war zone. The dump truck, tanker, and the area surrounding them were still on fire. Portions of the destroyed crane littered the site, one of which had her trapped.

Twilight attempted to levitate the beam a tiny bit so she could squirm out.

It didn’t budge.

She stared for a moment, then redoubled her efforts to move it. She struggled like this for a few more seconds, then collapsed in exhaustion. She was too weak, and the crane was far too heavy. While the shield she’d conjured just before the crane had landed on her had saved her life, it had also taken a tremendous amount of energy. The rest had been sucked away by her body as it attempted to repair itself.

“Terrific.” She panted in annoyance. “This couldn’t get much worse, could it?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to say stuff like that?” replied a voice behind her. She looked back, and her blood ran cold.

Jase was walking towards her, pistol held tightly in one hand. She started to struggle with the beam once again, causing Jase to chuckle cruelly.

“Nice try bitch, but you ain’t getting away this time.”

Twilight looked back at him. “Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you!?”

Jase went from cruel happiness to dead seriousness in a split second. “You’re dangerous, you know that don’t you? Those crazy voodoo powers you got? They ain’t natural. You’re a danger to everyone on the fucking planet. The world’s screwed up enough. It doesn’t need help from a freakshow like you.”

“You’re crazy if you think killing me is going to solve anything.” she spat.

“Quite the contrary, princess.” he said as he pulled the slide back and pointed it at the bridge of her nose, causing her eyes to cross as she stared at it. “I’m one of the sanest people you’ve ever met.”

Twilight gulped audibly.

“The world will thank me for this.” he said with a maniacal grin.

She shut her eyes and waited for the gunshot that would finish her.

Instead of a gunshot, though, she heard a car horn.

“What the f-OH SHIT!” Jase screamed. Twilight opened her eyes just in time to see a black muscle car slam into Jase and send him flying. He landed in a crumpled heap a few meters away and lay still.

She watched as the Mach 1 pulled up next to her. The door opened and a masked man in a black coat and fedora stepped out and shut it behind him. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at Jase’s body. “Should’ve done that the first time.”

“Allen!?”

He turned back to her. “Twilight, you’re an idiot.” he said simply.

She stared at him, unsure of how to respond.

“I know I keep a ton of secrets, but at least I’m not trying to kill you.”

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Secrets are one thing. Lies are another thing entirely.”

“So that’s why you ran off? Because I lied to you?”

“Because I don’t even know if I can trust you! You might not be who you say you are! What if you’re trying to find some way to extort me just like everyone else!? I don’t know anything because YOU WON’T SAY ANYTHING!!”

She was glaring harshly at him by this point. He simply stared back, completely unfazed by her rage as he waited for her to finish. Then he knelt down next to her.

“You’re right. I owe you an explanation.”

“I-YOU-what?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything, but first we have to get out of here.” he replied as a red pickup pulled up next to the Mach 1. He turned to look as a man in a ski mask got out and began searching through the bed.

“What took you so long?” Allen asked anxiously.

“Had to find mah jack.” Skeeter replied shortly as he extracted the aforementioned piece of equipment. “Explosions mean debris. Debris means liftin’. Liftin’ means Ah need mah jack.”

Twilight was about to ask what a jack was when a round bounced off of the crane piece she was trapped under.

“DOWN!!” Allen barked as he dropped into a crouch and drew his pistol. “Skeeter, you work on freeing Twilight and patching that wound in her shoulder. I’m gonna go draw their fire.”

With that he sprinted over to the relative safety of the overturned dump truck’s bucket. Twilight sighed and rolled over to her back, wincing as the bullet wound in her shoulder ignited again. She looked at Skeeter as he slid the jack under the beam and started cranking.

“Skeeter, what am I supposed to make of all of this?” she asked.

He looked at her and raised a brow. “Why’re ya askin’ me?”

“Because you know him better than anyone, and I’m willing to bet that you knew about his job, too.” She replied accusingly.

Skeeter stared at her for a moment, then sighed. “Ya know, there’s allota people on this planet who’d give anythin’ to have the job that he’s got. Ya get a big gun, a big paycheck, and ya get to shoot people for a livin’. Ya wanna know somethin’ else?”

“What?”

“Allen woulda happily been done with it three years ago if he’d been allowed. The only reason he’s still doin’ it’s ‘cause his boss screwed him over.”

With that, he returned to lifting the beam, leaving Twilight to think about what he’d said.

((((((*******))))))

Allen stood behind the wrecked dump truck, listening to the rounds bounce off of the heat-treated iron bucket.

“Yes! Good job, fellas! Keep shooting the bucket! You’ll make it through eventually!” he taunted.

“Shut the fuck up, get out here, and fight like a man!” one of the thugs yelled back.

Allen peeked around the corner and looked around for anything he could use to distract the thugs, squeezing off a few rounds to scare them. Looking up, he noticed a bundle of steel pipes suspended from a crane truck that had survived the chaos its larger cousin had caused.

“That’ll work.” he said to no one in particular.

He quickly ducked back as rounds began striking the bucket again, then backed up as far as he could while still remaining in the cover of the bucket. The coupling connecting the crane’s hook to its cables came into view, and he fired at it. It managed to take three shots before finally shattering, allowing its load to drop and scatter loudly on the ground below.

By the time the pipes hit the ground, Allen was already back in his prior position next to the dump truck. As soon as he heard his enemies shouting in panic, he spun around the bucket, sighted, and emptied his clip into every knee, thigh, and shoulder he saw.

He stood there for a moment, looking at each of the thugs as they nursed their various debilitations. Then he reloaded his pistol and walked back to his two friends.

Skeeter finished patching up Twilight with a rough, improvised bandage just as he got there. He looked back as Allen approached. “Ya get ‘em?”

“Yeah.” replied Allen. “We shouldn’t have any problems leaving.”

“Well then, I’ma leave before the cops get here. Stay safe ya’ll.” he replied, tossing his jack back into the bed.

Allen nodded and looked over at Twilight, who was trying to rub the feeling back into her legs after being pinned by the crane section for so long. “How are you doing?”

She looked up at him. “A few hours ago, I found out my roommate is a hired killer; possibly having something to do with the death of his parents. I try to take a walk to help me figure out how I should feel about this, and I get ambushed and incapacitated by armed thugs for the second time this week, wake up to discover that I’m trapped by a piece of destroyed construction equipment, and almost get shot in the face.” She took a breath and shrugged. “All that considered, I think I’m actually doing quite well.”

“Great.” he replied, offering her a gloved hand. “Then get in the car, let’s go home, and I’ll give you a proper bandage and tell you a little story about how highschool sophomore Allen Flynt became an assassin-for-hire.”

Twilight accepted the hand and he hauled her up, then the two of them got in the Mach 1 and set off for home.

“You’re really going to tell me? Everything?” she asked.

“Yes.” Allen replied shortly.

“Why now?”

He took a deep breath before answering. “Because I need someone to tell me, truthfully, whether I can be forgiven for what I’ve done. And right now, you’re the only one with the ability to judge me fairly.”

Twilight was taken slightly aback. “What about Skeeter?”

“He’s too-” he began, but suddenly stopped and straightened up in his seat. Twilight stared at him, confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

“Allen?”

“Keep quiet and stare straight ahead. We’re surrounded.”

Twilight did as she was told, but couldn’t help glancing out of her window to see what the fuss was about. Then she saw them, and her breath caught in her throat.

Two other cars were driving slightly ahead of them, the passengers of each aiming guns at them. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw another, larger vehicle directly behind them. A man with a much larger gun aimed at them through the sunroof.

“Can you push them away from us?” Allen asked.

“No, not after what happened at the construction site. I don’t have any energy left.” she replied nervously. “Where are we going?”

“No idea.” he replied. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

Author's Note

Miss me?
Sorry for vanishing everybody, but I have a very good reason for not updating in nearly a month: life. In just a month I have succeeded in purposely getting myself fired from McDonalds (by the way, never take a job at Mcdonalds), I managed to secure a new job, and I succeeded in dodging my parents on Thanksgiving (don't ask). You could say that I've had a very eventful November.
Shenanigans aside, I want to thank all of the people who stuck by me this long. Please take this longer-than-average chapter as a token of my gratitude and as an apology for making you wait so long.
As usual, be sure to leave a comment and click that thumbs-up if you enjoyed.
Thanks everyone!
P.S.-Indenting's a bitch.