Clairee's Short Story

Clairee was the perfect seller to his pitch. Even he almost believed it was true when that feigned look of horror marred her face once she tainted her own visage with blood. The lurch act came as a surprise. But then, they should've been ready to play any role the circumstances put them into, and as expected, she aced the role quite brilliantly. There's going to be stories about this ... If they make it out in one piece.

Just as they rounded the corner, it was obvious his delay will cost them dearly, it will cost her more since she obliged to his whims and let him find what he wanted ever since Nate's name came up in the briefing. Does he feel guilty? Maybe. He genuinely cares about this woman now, and this could be a reenactment of the past

when his own choices cost him a partner.

Once they were out of their sight, Owen carried himself by himself, the ploy was over and they had to make the final run for their boat. This was it, that thrilling pulse of his heart knowing he'll accomplish yet another long sought job. Though that wild pace in his chest shot up when that deadly hiss tore through the air near them. They were busted, just a short distance from their boat.

"The hell with this. How fucking persistent do you have to be when your boss is already fucking dead!" They were too vigilante with their jobs if they still were hunting them. True, they killed seven people in cold blood, but why bother when your employer is already in a pool of his own blood? Probably not the best time to admire or hate their dedication though.

Owen did not break his sprint until he passed a structure big enough to hide them both if they crouched. Sliding hard unto the floor, using his good arm to grasp unto the edge of the structure and swing his body behind cover. Whoever shot them had the advantage of sight. "You know ... I'm not good at lurching on cue, but I can distract them. So if you have any ideas, now's the time partner!"