Ophilia's world blurred for a moment as Vivian stared at her. She heard the screams from all around them and smelled the cloying scent of blood in the air. She felt like she was covered in mud and gore as she crawled through the tarnished remains of a shelled city of stone huts. She saw the eyes – hundreds of them – staring at her from their places on the ground – always open, never blinking – asking her so many questions that would never be answered. She swallowed against the growing knot of horror in her throat, but the saliva tasted like piss and dry rations.

There was a reason Ophilia killed her victims before they had time to scream and left no witnesses to see her after a firefight. Tasks like torture and extortion gave her time to prepare. But she hadn't been prepared for this. She felt her skin grow cold and clammy, her throat tighten as if she was being strangled. She was locked in place, staring at Vivian, trying to look cool and composed.

"Ophilia?" Vivian's voice sounded distant, even through the earplugs. "Ophilia, y'alright?"

Ophilia pitched to the side and vomited. She managed to keep it off herself, but clutched her stomach as a second wave hit her, dumping what little contents her stomach had left onto the ground. Vivian was supporting her in seconds, holding her hair back, but Ophilia pushed her away, panicked. This was all wrong. She groped for her rifle, finding it's comforting presence at her side. She felt her breath come back to her as fear abated.

She was protected. She was safe. She wasn't some little girl who needed to be afraid of the skeletons in her closet or the monsters under her bed. She'd drag them into the open. She'd put a bullet between their eyes. And then they'd join the others on the ground, atop the ever-growing pile of the dead.

Ophilia coughed and spat, feeling some warmth return to her body. She heard distant shouts and reality settled back into place. The Black Dogs were probably starting some kind of recovery effort. She dug a rag from her pocket that was normally used for wiping up fingerprints and wiped her mouth clean.

"I'm fine," Ophilia said, pulling out her earplugs. She leaned into Vivian, so the other woman could hear her clearly. "I'm fine, Vivian." She kissed the woman's cheek, vaguely unsure why she'd done it. It certainly wasn't the time for it. "We... Let me get another look in that box. I thought I saw a sniper rifle I'm familiar with."

Vivian tilted her head slightly, then nodded. "I got most of that. I'll keep their attention off you."

Despite everything that had just happened, Vivian seemed almost eager to dive into the thick. Ophilia couldn't understand it; this wasn't like her Vivian at all. She was more than changed – she'd been reborn – and Ophilia wasn't certain she liked the differences. But Vivian was still Vivian, deep down. Ophilia had seen that much clearly. She would worry about the messy details later.

She moved quickly to the weapon crate while Vivian lobbed her last two grenades over the wall, cackling. As if anyone would be alive close enough to this area to be harmed by them. As the frags exploded, Vivian rushed to mount her Minigun, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

Ophilia, meanwhile, dug in the box, looking for the coveted scope she'd seen earlier. For a moment, she thought that perhaps she'd been seeing things – that the gun she was certain she saw had been just another part of her delusions and flashbacks.

But there it was. Ophilia's eyes fell on the rifle – a Tabuk Sniper Rifle – sitting among the other weapons. She lifted the weapon with slightly shaking hands, remembering the last time she'd fired one of these.

"Why did you buy this model?" Ophilia asked, not looking up from the smooth wood stock of the gun.

"Hm?" Vivian asked, looking over to her. "Oh that," she added, likely seeing what Ophilia was holding. She pulled out an earplug; there was still shouting, but the Dogs weren't coming closer yet. "It's a Tabuk; they were made in Iraq ages ago, but held on to their value. I just saw that one on the market and decided to grab it. Why not, right?" She paused. "You, uh... alright, Ophilia?"

Ophilia gripped the gun tighter, taking a deep, calming breath. She felt a part of her soul harden, preparing her for the terrors she was about to face. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing." She shouldered the gun, then looked over to Vivian. "I'm keeping this gun."

Vivian blinked and tiled her head. "Why?"

"No reason. I just like it," Ophilia lied, scooping up some ammunition and drawing her pistol. "I'll need five minutes to get to the catwalk. After that, I can shoot down over their cover. Can you keep them occupied?"

Vivian nodded and gave a rakish smile that, in just about any other situation, would've made Ophilia smile right back. But she found no joy in this dirty business, even if Vivian did. She turned and scaled one of the shelves of boxes and firearms with quick, simple movements. She wasted no energy – it'd certainly be needed later. As she jumped over the top of the divider, she had a very quick glimpse of Vivian as she attached her Minigun to the stand.

Several seconds later, the roar of the gun filled the air, mixed with Vivian's hysterical laughter.

Ophilia shuddered as she pressed her back to the wall. That was the laugh of someone thoroughly, frantically, maybe fanatically enjoying something they were doing. And, in this case, that something was the wholesale slaughter of one's fellow man. But then again, had Ophilia really been any different? Did it matter if you enjoyed the slaughter or not? These questions, mixed with Vivian's hysteria, made Ophilia's blood run cold. To keep from thinking any further, she darted forward through the winding corridors of the warehouse, eyes snapping to the large outer wall and the stairs that lead to her perch.

All at once, the Minigun's roar stopped. "Aw, come on!" Ophilia heard Vivian shout, before the chaos resumed. As she ran, visions swam over what she saw. All around her, buildings rose up and crumbled to dust. She heard the roar of jets as they came in to carpet an area. She gripped the Tabuk tightly in a white-knuckled grip, seeing blossom-shaped splotches of red wherever she looked. But she'd been prepared for it this time; the thoughts, the flashbacks, the terrible memories. She shook her head, muttering her mantra to herself as she ran.

"Don't look back; look forward. Don't look back; look forward..." She stopped at a corner, face blank and emotionless. Better to not feel at all, she always said. Vivian's path of destruction grew larger and Ophilia took a moment to consider her lover's style. Vivian's brand of warfare was simple: she reveled in the madness brought on by fear and confusion. She was like a musician, plucking at the chords of her enemy's mind, driving them to acts of stupidity. Do it right, and they'd practically shoot themselves.

She looked around the corner, eyes settling on her goal. She noticed with some disdain that three of these incompetent gangster had only just now got the same idea as her. If she'd been on their side of this firefight, the catwalks would've been her first objective.

Holstering her pistol for now, she drew the Tabuk up to her shoulder and adjusted the scope. These men, she realized, were entirely unequipped for dealing with a sniper. They carried rifles with no attachments; nothing to give them an edge at a far distance. If she caught them by surprise from afar, they'd be fish in a barrel.

Ophilia crouched down, minimizing the presented target as best as she could, and began firing the semi-automatic rifle. The first bullet struck a gangster in the forehead, snapping his whole body back in one harsh motion. Later shots were less precise, but they all found flesh regardless. She'd learned that many enemies will black out from shock when their kneecaps burst or their stomachs opened up. Pain like that was something the mind liked to distance itself from.

This wasn't as bad as her last Job. There was a personal touch to torture that required a strong bond between torturer and victim. This kind of killing was impartial, impersonal, and easy by comparison. Still, deep inside her hollow chest, Ophilia hated how good she was at putting her enemies into the ground.

Once the staircase was clear and the moans of the dying let others know that it was off limits, Ophilia hurried up the stairs to the catwalk and trained her sights onto the warehouse below, looking for her violent lover.

Admittedly, she was pretty easy to find; just follow the explosions.

Vivian had most definitely gone back to the crate to restock at some point or another – her weapon of choice now was a semi-automatic shotgun that the gangsters they'd killed earlier had been using.

Vivian, Ophilia considered, was most at home with guns such as her minigun or shotguns. She preferred brute force and lacked precision; those weapons were perfect for those kinds of situations. However, in the right hands, any weapon could become a master's tool.

Vivian was facing off against three of the Black Dogs in a room no larger than the average bedroom. One of the three was making a point to try and restore some order to Vivian's chaos, and the gang boss with the wild hair and wild eyes was making a special point to let them know exactly how she felt about that choice of action. She was outnumbered, though, and the man was pointing at her hiding spot, shouting some orders to his fellow bangers.

Ophilia drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, honing her focus to a needle point. She aimed carefully and gently pulled the trigger. The leader of Vivian's little group of enemies didn't know what hit him. Ophilia could hear the sudden outcries as the man's head snapped to his shoulder, a rose of blood suddenly blooming on the wall beside him as his head emptied itself of it's contents. His body crumpled off his perch and nearly landed on another gangster, who quickly broke cover and tried to retreat.

Ophilia's second shot took him in the leg. He collapsed to the ground, screaming loudly until Vivian peeked from her cover and replaced his head with a mess of crimson chunks. The third and final gangster was huddled behind her cover, eyes wild and afraid, frantically scanning for Ophilia. Pity was shunted from Ophilia's heart and she pulled the trigger a third time, removing the woman's need to search.

Vivian rose and saluted her, raising her gun in a sign of thanks, before stalking off down another hall in search of more violence.

Ophilia wasn't entirely sure there were many Black Dogs left. With the constant movement in and out of the warehouse, getting an accurate assessment of the warehouse's population had been next to impossible prior to entry. And despite the numbers she'd seen while they'd crept through the warehouse, many of those people likely fled into the night. Ophilia couldn't blame them; Vivian was frightening.

So, not knowing what numbers they faced, Ophilia settled in and watched over Vivian like a guardian angel. She took shot after shot, missing very rarely, and killing effortlessly. As she claimed life after life, Ophilia forced a wall between her thoughts and actions. She let her mind drift – dangerous, she knew, but necessary to keep her sanity. The scene her mind chose, however, was not a pleasant one.

Gunfire, all around her. Innocent people – women, children, elderly – screamed as they died. The schoolhouse was aflame; a pyre for the bodies of the 'heathen' children. It was just another day in her life by that point, but the horror of those scenes still woke her up at night. She'd clutched a rifle very much like the one she held now, firing shots into the 'warriors' who were killing indiscriminately in the name of their God. Quickly, her mind shuffled to something new.

A fanatic, Salvatore had taught her, was a predictable creature only in it's unpredictability. They didn't think like normal people, were willing to throw their lives away for their cause, and could kill without remorse, so long as they believe it's for the greater good. They could exist anywhere and fear meant little to them.

Vivian was, in many ways, a fanatic; what she followed in her fanaticism, however, was up for debate. Ophilia had to wonder what the two of them could even believe in, after all they'd gone through in life.

The man seemed to come from nowhere, as distracted as Ophilia was. He had hidden while his friends died and, once the moment was ripe, he'd stepped out and pinpointed Ophilia after her attention was elsewhere. Up till now, with Vivian's distractions, nobody had bothered to try and mark Ophilia's location. This man had. He fired and red splashed onto the catwalk behind her. Ophilia knew she'd been hit; the sensation was familiar to her after the other times she'd felt it. Like an old friend.

The initial contact felt like a pebble hitting her. She felt no pain for a second, then a harsh burning that radiated out from where the bullet had traveled. She snapped her rifle towards her attacker, snarling as the pain forced her senses into overdrive. Just as she was about to pull the trigger and end his life, the side of his head exploded into red mist. Vivian was standing nearby, aiming her Desert Eagle where the man had just been standing.

Without another moment, Ophilia found her wound. The bullet had struck her left thigh, a minor wound, but she was loosing blood. Ophilia found the exit wound and noticed with some relief that the bullet had passed completely through the leg without damaging the bone. That'd be a much faster recovery time.

Her breath left her in an explosive burst and she realize that she hadn't known she was holding it. She was sweating and her head was filled with an annoying ring, like tinnitus, but not from loud noises. She dug in her bag for a gauze wrap, her eyes not leaving Vivian as she looted the dead man's body.

The other woman saluted again, a little wearily this time, but Ophilia could see those pearly-white teeth even without her scope. She found herself smiling back as she wrapped her wound tightly, immensely grateful that, while she was watching over Vivian, her lover had been watching out for her as well.

In that moment, she decided that, no matter how much she'd changed – no matter what she enjoyed or did – Vivian was hers. She was precious, and Ophilia would love her, no matter what came their way.

Wound tied off and gritting against the pain, Ophilia reloaded her rifle, dropping the magazine off the catwalk. Luckily, she'd watched her magazine fall – there were guards below her. Ophilia cursed as the spent magazine landed among them and their heads snapped up. As one, they all raised their rifles, prepared to fire.

Ophilia scrambled, slightly slowed by her injured leg, rushing along the catwalk as sparks flew around her. The grates were both a blessing and a curse; they deflected bullets, but left no way for her to hide. She couldn't do anything but retreat.

The sound of Vivian's Eagle was like the bark of a fierce hound, breaking the monotony of machine-gun fire from below. Ophilia heard shouts as attention was diverted from her long enough for her to twist herself around and draw her pistol. She soaked in the entire situation in only a matter of seconds.

Vivian was standing down the hall, her forearm wrapped with something that had probably once resembled a shirt. Her Eagles roared in defiance at the gunmen. The Black Dogs – all four of them – were looking at Vivian and training their weapons on her haphazardly. They'd forgotten the panther for fear of the rhino.

This proved to be an error in judgement. Ophilia leaned over the side of the railing and fired a shot down into the head of one of the men, just as Vivian's bullets took two more simultaneously. The last man looked at his fallen friends and tried to run. Ophilia gunned him down without an ounce of emotion or a moment of hesitation.

As the last shot echoed away, there was silence at last. No fresh targets rose up. No bullets peppered the space around her. Ophilia felt the adrenaline fade from her body as the seconds marched by into a minute and her mind marked the end of the fight. She kept her pistol out, but leaned onto the railing with her arms, taking a moment to catch her breath and relax. She watched as Vivian leaned against a wall, hunched over and breathing heavily. She had probably been riding that adrenaline high for so long, she'd be asleep for days. The pain in her thigh was keen; she'd probably have another scar.

Movement caught her eye and Ophilia tensed. She'd underestimated the Black Dogs. Most of them had been reckless, helpless, or just plain moronic, but apparently, a small group of them had brains in their heads. They'd waited, bided their time, and slipped into the armory when Vivian and Ophilia were far enough away.

The one man Ophilia spotted was shouldering an RPG, the deadly launcher aimed directly at her. She noted three more, two men carrying combat shotguns and a woman with a sniper rifle, trained in Vivian's direction. Ophilia couldn't see the face of the one aiming at her, but she imagined it was triumphant. She shouted something to Vivian as she snapped her rifle up, but she knew she'd barely have time to kill even one of them before tragedy struck.

The cross-hairs hovered over the head of the rocket-holder for a fraction of a second, before darting over to the sniper quickly. Ophilia planted the bullet into her eye, hearing the rocket as it ignited. She was turning to run only a second after she'd fired her shot, hearing the sound of it's approaching hiss.

The world behind her exploded and Ophilia was thrown into the air. She felt something smash into her chest – knocking all the wind out of her – and saw the railing of the catwalk just briefly as she rolled over it and flew into the air. Time seemed to slow and she saw that the entire catwalk was a destroyed mess. She'd avoided the brunt of the rocket, only to have the blast launch her over the railing. She'd have laughed, if she'd had the time. She had a single moment to worry about herself and Vivian before time resumed it's inevitable course, the ground rushed up to meet her with a loud crack and darkness consumed her vision.

Reality, as it's wont to do, reasserted itself regardless of whether Ophilia wanted it to or not. She coughed, feeling liquid agony pour through every vein in her entire body. Everything burned – from hair to heel – and she didn't dare move for fear of the nightmarish pain it'd probably bring. It seemed she was being dragged across the ground outside the warehouse on a kind of sled or stretcher, made from a broken piece of the warehouse's divider walls. Once she'd coughed, however, a familiar face came into view.

"Oh, you're alright! I was so worried!" Vivian gripped Ophilia's hand tightly as she spoke. She brought it up to her lips and kissed it, closing her eyes for a second. Her other hand was raised, holding her Eagle towards the direction in which Ophilia was being pulled.

Ophilia took a breath to speak, regretted it, and started coughing again, which only made everything worse. She could feel a stabbing pain in her midsection and knew she had at least one broken rib.

"Careful," Vivian said softly. This close, Ophilia got a very good look into Vivian's eyes. Yes, there was the signs that she was high – it hadn't been that long ago that Vivian had smoked a joint off the corpse in the security room – but Ophilia also noted obvious signs that Vivian had been sobbing. A lump swelled up in Ophilia's throat.

"You've got some damage in your ribs; don't know how many, but I know two are broken," Vivian confirmed, making Ophilia wince. That wasn't great news. "I don't know about your leg... It got twisted pretty bad, so I know it's at least sprained... Your arm is broken for sure..." She peered off towards the direction of her gun as she spoke. "I think you hit your— Don't you fucking dare!" She snapped her whole head in the direction she'd been looking, her expression going from relieved to murderous in the span of a heartbeat. "I will force-feed you your own dick through a bendy-straw if you move one iota out of line, you fucking waste of of a fertilized egg!"

Ophilia heard no reply, but her makeshift sled suddenly began to move with more urgency. Vivian turned back to her, giving her head a small shake. "I think you hit your head pretty bad..." She resumed, as if she hadn't said anything at all about dicks or bendy-straws or eggs. "You were mumbling about someone named Salvatore." Vivian's voice trailed down into a whisper and she gave Ophilia's hand another hard squeeze. "I thought I'd lost you again..."

Ophilia felt herself smile, her pain seeming more tolerable after seeing Vivian's concern. She took a small, careful breath ignored the pain that flared through her body, and spoke. "What happened?" She asked, her voice a soft whisper. She had been growing more and more cognizant of her surroundings as Vivian had been talking, and she'd noticed that Vivian was walking with a noticeable limp. She had a makeshift bandage wrapped around her midsection, with blood staining the cloth over her hip. She also had a similar wrap around her shoulder, also showing some red. She was noticeably paler than normal, but she wasn't the ashen color of someone in danger from blood loss.

"You... fell. I was so certain you were dead. When I got to you, you were hardly breathing, and..." She trailed off, gritting her teeth. "I found 'em. Caught this one," she continued, waggling her Eagle at the person Ophilia presumed was there. "It's the fucker who shot the rocket. His friends booked it. Left him to die. I let him know that if you died, he'd follow you. Only way, way slower." She looked over to the man pulling Ophilia, biting her lip. "I might still, depending on how many bumps he hits, getting you to the car."

Ophilia felt the sled slow down again, becoming more cautious. "How long have I been out?"

Vivian sighed. "About thirty minutes. Longer than I'd have liked. You're... a mess, Ophilia..." Vivian pulled out a cloth she'd had tucked in her belt and wiped Ophilia's face down with it, soaking up the sweat. It probably helped, but to Ophilia, all it did was made her realize just how badly her head was killing her. The cloth already smelt like sweat, so Vivian had likely been using it this whole time. Either that, or the person who's clothes she'd ripped it off of hadn't been very hygienic. Or had been very frightened. Probably the latter.

"I fucked up," Vivian finally said, eyes moistening, as if she was about to cry. "I should've watched out for shit like this. I should've shown you what guns I'd gotten. I should've... Dammit..." She growled and clenched her fist on the rag, and the guy pulling the stretcher made a noise that Ophilia had heard only during her most vicious jobs.

"We're going to let him go," Ophilia said softly. Vivian's eyes hardened and she raised an eyebrow at her. "There's been enough killing today. He'll go back to his boss and tell him everything. Who I am. What you did. Why they shouldn't mess with your gang again. How I got hit with a rocket and fell off the catwalk and was barely injured." Ophilia laid the emphasis thick on the last two words, turning her head to look at the one pulling her along. "Right?"

Ophilia remembered the man from the brief time he'd been in her scope. She hadn't gotten a good look at him, but any sense of triumph she'd gotten from him was long gone now. His face was bloodied and he'd obviously been beaten badly. His face had several bruises that were obviously from being whipped by Vivian's Eagles. He probably had several fractures in his facial bones. "O-of course! I'll tell 'em whatever you want!"

Vivian bit her lip, obviously considering killing him regardless, when Ophilia rolled her hand and twined her fingers with Vivian's. "What was the point of all this? Not to get your guns back, but to send a message." She gave her lover's hand a squeeze. "The best messages hold both the living and the dead up as examples." It was one of her father's favorite sayings.

Vivian sighed – a familiar gesture that made Ophilia want to chuckle – and nodded. "Fine. As long as he doesn't fuck up and hurt you more, he'll go free."

"Thank you!" The man blubbered, and Vivian snapped her head back towards him.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll slam your fucking skull into the pavement till it breaks, you disgusting little abortion of a man!" She screamed so loud, Ophilia got slightly worried about witnesses. Then again, it was unlikely there weren't witnesses to the firefight they'd just had. "Ophilia's a mess because of you and you used my fucking rocket launcher to do it! I should make you pay for that gun!"

Ophilia closed her eyes as Vivian tore into her captive. Yes, deep down, Vivian was still her same old self. She was vulgar, broken, and more vicious than anyone she'd even known, but underneath all that, she was still the loving, protective woman that cared more about Ophilia than anything else in the world. And Ophilia felt the same way.

The two held hands for two or three more minutes, before the man managed to finally reach the car. They'd driven over in one of Vivian's vehicles – a snow-white Jaguar XJ – and parked a good distance away to ensure a silent approach. He set her down, heaving loudly and doubling over.

"Did I say you could stop?" Vivian asked, pressing the Eagle into the side of his head. "Help her into the back seat. Now!" It was both agonizing and amusing, having the Black Dog help her into the car. While she was in an immense amount of pain, the constant string of threats and insults Vivian kept throwing at her prisoner was just too entertaining. Once she was safely in the car, laying across the seats, she heard Vivian open the door.

"Viv... Get his name," Ophilia said to the ceiling, not wanting to turn her head and cause herself any more pain right now. Vivian looked back to her, then rolled down the window and shouted more obscenities at the man. After a lengthy bout of her waving her gun at him again, Vivian passed back the man's ID. "Richard Drake, huh...?"

"I heard the others calling him Rover. A Black Dog named Rover. Fucking stupid, the lot of 'em," Vivian interjected, grumbling.

They left the lone man behind; the only one willingly spared in the entirety of their attack. He'd have quite the story to tell. Ophilia had to respect him somewhat; he'd taken control of a bad situation and had proven his resourcefulness. Ophilia was seriously considering passing his name to her father as a possible hire.

Ophilia rode in silence for a minute or two, thinking, while Vivian called Ne-Yo and her other Misfits. She told them to retrieve the guns, but to do so with caution. She doubted the Black Dogs would get in their way anymore, but paranoia was one of Vivian's favorite words. Finally beating down her nerves, Ophilia called her father.

"Ophilia. How did the job with Vivian go?" Charles' voice had a slightly bored tone; Ophilia knew he wasn't actually curious, meaning he already knew. Ophilia resisted the urge to swallow a knot in her throat. He wouldn't be pleased that she was injured.

"It was successful," Ophilia dodged giving the full answer for the moment, instead sticking to the task at hand. "I wanted to give you a name. I encountered a banger among the crowd that stood out. We let him live, but not before I got his name. I've decided; he would be an asset to the Family as a Bruiser."

Bruisers were the people not of "the blood"; random people who were given little power within the Family. They were the muscle, the meat, the fodder. But Ophilia liked shoring their ranks with the skilled and talented; better to have competent minions.

Charles made a thoughtful noise. "Very well." He took her recommendations very seriously, she knew. "Give me his name." Ophilia did and, after some questions about the man's abilities, Charles dismissed her and hung up the phone. After she pocketed it, silence ruled the car for several minutes. Vivian seemed oddly withdrawn and Ophilia was just about to say something about it, when Vivian finally spoke.

"You hungry?" She asked, and Ophilia nearly hurt herself laughing.

"Yeah, I actually am. Surprise me," She responded, shifting to prop herself up against the door. "Do you have a decent doctor in your pocket?"

Vivian nodded. "Yeah, don't worry. I got you covered, Mel." More silence.

"It wasn't just Turkey."

Vivian blinked, looking at Ophilia in the rear-view mirror. Ophilia closed her eyes, letting the memories wash over her. "My training. It wasn't just Turkey. I went all over the Middle East: Israel, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Egypt... You name it; I've shot someone there. I was a mercenary, hired out to fight in this war or that. My mentor was an ex-MI6 agent named Salvatore. I was already learning how to snipe a target at two-hundred meters about a year after I was kidnapped. From that point on, my life was made up entirely of killing and dying in equal measure. I became what I am now: a killer, plain and simple. Worse, a chained animal, set lose on those who my master sics me on. I hardly have any free will anymore." She clenched her fist on her lap, letting her eyes open and looking over to Vivian. "I've never told anyone about any of this. There wasn't anyone I trusted enough to tell, until now." She could see the pain in Vivian's eyes as she stared at the road. "But it was nothing compared to what you'd gone through, Vivian. I read your file. I'm so sorry."

Vivian gave a small, defeated laugh. "Before I got back out onto the streets, I had maybe... five bodies on my hands? How many had you killed by then, Mel? And I did it because I needed to, to survive." She shook her head. "There's no comparison. Fuck, Ophilia, I..." She sighed and slammed the heel of her hand onto the wheel, wincing at the pain it clearly caused her. "I spent most of that time getting high... While you..."

Ophilia closed here eyes again and sat in the silence, until Vivian's voice reached her once more.

"Tell me about it," she said simply. Ophilia looked at her lover once more. "Share your burdens with me, Mel. I'll share mine with you. If we're really gonna be two parts of one whole, then lets make a pact now; lets support one-another through everything. Even our pasts."

Ophilia felt her chest swell with love for this woman. She smiled and giggled, just like the old days. Vivian was still such a sappy romantic. And a total nerd. "I love you, Vivian," She said with a laugh and wince. "Ow..." She settled on smiling instead, getting comfortable in the seat. "Alright. I'll tell you all about it. But lets start at the beginning..."

Author's Note

You know, I really wanted to ponify modern locations. I really did. But it gets hard when the names get shorter. Worse still, so many locations are visited and talked about, it became too complicated. So, at the end of the day, I decided to humanize the locations, just as I humanized our main cast. I hope that doesn't put you guys off reading the story.