"Damn, Tool, another one?" Christmas shook his head as he leapt off his motorcycle. "Aren't you ever going to settle down?"
"What the hell for?" Tool gave him a toothy, sly grin. He slapped the young woman's ass, murmured something in her ear that elicited a few giggles. She hurried away from him, headed upstairs. "Settling down," Tool said, "would be fucking boring."
"Says the one who doesn't take jobs anymore," Hale quipped, a silly smile stretching across his face.
Christmas nodded his head in agreement, suppressed a smile. Ross slipped out of the shadows, eyes flitting between his three buddies. Tool turned to him.
"Barney," he said, "is my life boring?"
Ross pursed his lips, then answered, "Well, we're the one's getting shot at, and you're here painting tattoos."
"You bastards." Tool shook his head, a low chuckle rising up in his throat. "Christmas, you up for a round before I have some fun upstairs?"
"Really, Tool? Now?"
"Hell yes, now. What? You 'fraid of losing tonight?"
"I'll whoop your ass so hard you won't be able to sit on it for a week." Christmas slid out of his throwing knives, the steel gleaming as the murky light in the shop hit it.
"Putting my money on you," Hale said. "Anyone know where Yang is, by the way?"
"I heard he found some warm body to sleep with tonight," Christmas replied, eyeing the decorated skull painting that was his target.
Tool reached down for a knife of his own, enjoying the coolness against his rough fingertips. Ross leaned against a motorcycle, shaking his head.
"I still think a bullet's faster than a knife," he stated.
"What?" Christmas pivoted to face Barney.
"Oh no," Hale groaned, "here we fucking go again."
"You know my knife has beaten your bullet."
"Not even close."
"Hey, girls," Tool snapped, "we gonna get started or what? I don't want to keep the ass upstairs waiting."
Christmas shook his head, left Ross's side. "Me first or you, smart-ass?"
"You're one to talk." Tool glanced at the knife in his hand. "Me first."
And with a flick of the wrist, the knife sailed through the arc and embedded itself into one of the skull painting's eye sockets. Hale smiled broadly, already anticipating the competition. Christmas laughed, took a few steps back from where Tool started.
"You think you're the best," Christmas began, eliciting a groan from Ross, "but I'm above the rest."
As he wound up to let his blade fly, another, black as tar, arced above his head and smacked into the painting, right in the middle of the painted skull. Ross leapt to his feet, reaching for his gun; Tool and Hale tensed, their fists closing around the nearest weapons, one of which was Hale's barbering blade. Christmas hastened to the open door behind him, poised for a deadly knife strike.
"Who's there?" Ross called out.
"Someone you'll get to know real soon, I hope," a feminine voice answered from the gloom outside. "Please, put your weapons down. I don't want to die tonight, if that's alright with you."
None of the men relaxed, even as a slender figure appeared in the doorway, hands empty and slack by her sides. She smirked at the men in turn, fixed a gaze on Christmas, then Ross. Ross shifted uneasily beneath her stare, his throat clenching involuntarily at the sight of the young woman. Tool set aside the knife he had grabbed, eyebrows arched in surprise, and took a step towards the woman, palms upward in a gesture of peace.
"And what's your name?" he asked, unable to keep the suggestiveness from his voice.
The woman offered him a pretty smile, one that defied the venom in her reply.
"My name is Erin, and I don't fraternize with man-whores, Tool."
Tool's smile slid off his face. As Erin slipped into the tattoo shop, Christmas followed up behind her, tense as ever.
"How'd you know his name?" he asked.
"Oh, Christmas, I know all your names. The greatest asset of humankind is the ability to listen."
"You mean eavesdrop," Ross said, relaxing the hand on his gun.
"What's the difference?" Erin shrugged, let her fingers trail down a Christmas's motorcycle chrome. "When you guys check out a job, don't you eavesdrop and call it 'listening', Ross?" An unvoiced challenge sparkled in her brown eyes.
Christmas kicked the door shut with his heel, knife still in hand. "What else do you know?"
The blade gave a sickly gleam.
"I know what you all do for a living."
"Anyone could see that," Tool said, chuckling in an attempt to break the tension. "I'm a tattoo artist."
"Yeah, only because you decided to sit on your ass all day and fuck nameless broads. How fucking boring."
"Ouch, she got you there," Hale said, laughing. His white-knuckled grip on his barber blade betrayed his quivering nerves.
"What do you want?"
"Christmas, Christmas, Christmas." Erin shook her head. "You're so damn testy, aren't you? Is it because my knife hit home?" She gestured to the knife-board. "I'm sorry, but I just couldn't help myself. I always love a good competition."
Ross planted a hand on Christmas's shoulder, restraining him. He turned to Erin, put his gun away. A smirk tugged at the corners of Erin's lips. Ross approached her slowly and tried his best to look docile, if not friendly.
"How can we help you?" he asked.
"I want to join your team."
"Jesus." Christmas nearly leapt at Erin, his nerves fraying completely.
"Well, that's not such a bad idea," Tool commented, mouth stretching wide to reveal a toothy grin from behind his long, graying hair. "I wouldn't mind have you around."
Erin rolled her eyes over to Tool. "Just because you're being nice doesn't make you any less of a man-whore."
Tool held up his hands helplessly, the grin still on his face.
"Don't you have somebody to fuck upstairs?" Erin reminded him.
"Oh, shit, that's right!"
"Listen," Ross began tentatively as Tool clambered into the elevator to reach the broad waiting for him. "We don't need another person on this team."
"And this isn't a job for a fucking woman," Christmas snapped.
"If I didn't' know better," Erin said, eyes narrowing, "I'd think you were sexist, Lee."
"And what the fuck do you know?"
"I know you and Lacy are having problems." Erin turned back to Barney. "I'm sure I would be a valuable addition."
"And why's that?"
"I'm skilled in hand-to-hand combat. I have a large amount of contacts and resources available at all times. I know technology like the back of my hand. And I'm a girl."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Christmas glared at Erin over Ross's shoulder.
"How many mercenaries are female?"
"Zero," Hale commented.
"Exactly. No one ever suspects the woman until it's too late – or her husband was suspiciously murdered." Erin shrugged. "Please, at least consider letting me join the team."
Erin offered Ross a gracious smiled and brushed past Christmas, eyes locked with his until she stepped out the door and disappeared. Christmas faced Ross, found him staring after the woman, an odd expression creeping into his eyes.
"Ross. Ross!"
"Find out where Yang, Toll Road, and Gunner are. Now," Ross said, turning to Hale. "And you." He pointed at Christmas. "Come here."
Christmas yanked Erin's knife from the skull and glared at it, noting the black steel versus the blue steel he preferred. He followed Ross to the back of the shop as Hale started making calls. Ross took the knife from Christmas's hand, settled down on the edge of a table. Arms crossed, brow creased, he could have been The Thinker if he had propped his chin on his knuckles. Christmas sighed inwardly, wanting nothing more than freedom from Ross's accusing stare.
"I told you that Lacy wasn't your type," Ross began, speaking in quiet tones so Hale wouldn't hear him. "Why are you still thinking about her?"
Christmas pressed his lips into a thin line, brow furrowed. "I love her, Ross."
"But she doesn't love you," Barney reminded him. "Let it go. We don't have the time to invest in relationships, Christmas. Women don't like it when their men are gone for weeks and they can't know where they are. It just doesn't work."
"Fuck." Christmas shook his head. "Fuck you."
Ross watched him storm from the garage, stopping only to throw himself onto his bike and race out with a squeal of tires. Ross shook his head, picked up Erin's knife. He paused for a moment to look at the sleek design, at the precision that was attributed to all throwing knives. An SOG knife, the steel was coated in black and, though strong, shaped extremely thin. Erin had left the handle bare, letting the SOG logo available for all to see.
Ross wandered over to the knife-dart-board and glanced at the hole Erin's knife had made in the wood. The slit, as small as the gouges Christmas and Tool's knives made, did not stand out amidst the marred surface. Hale yelled from the corner, arguing with Yang, as always, through the phone. Ross tuned the black man out, focused his attention back on Erin's knife. In the light, its subdued gleam seemed dangerous, as venomous as the young woman's man-whore comment. A shiver trickled down Barney's spine. He shuddered, safely pocketed the knife in his jeans as an image of Erin rose up in his mind. Her dark eyes seemed sultry, as did the way her hands settled on her hips.
She's a pro, Ross thought to himself, recalling the woman's stance, the way she carried herself into the room. Confident as she had seemed, Barney realized that she had also been wary of him and his fellow mercenaries, just as she should have been. He wondered if she would be an excellent addition to his team.
She knew our names and what we do, Ross reminded himself. She could be a threat.
The phrase 'Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer' rang in Barney's ears. He nodded his head to himself, turned to Hale as the man ended his call.
"They're on their way," the man informed Ross. "You're not gonna give Yang a raise, are you?"
"Why would I?"
"Because he's smaller."
Ross couldn't help but smirk to himself. "No, I'm not givin' anyone a raise."
"What's up with Christmas?"
"The usual."
Hale rolled his eyes, slid his barber knife into his pocket. "What'd you think of that chick?"
"I'm not sure." Ross touched the pocket that held Erin's knife.
"Is she gonna join the team?"
"That's what I want to talk about." Ross glanced at his watch. "How long till the others get here?"
"Five, maybe ten, minutes. What about Christmas?"
"He needs to be alone for a while." Barney sat down on the edge of a motorcycle seat. "His decision won't mean shit right now. He's not thinking straight."
"When does he ever?" Hale laughed to himself. "You sure you want the meeting here? Tool's upstairs, and I bet the fucking's about to start."
Ross shrugged, cast a glance at the unopened garage door. "We'll see."
"You know, Ross," Hale began, arching an eyebrow, "that chick might be good for something, at least."
"Something's got to be done about her," Ross muttered, more to himself than to Hale. "Call Yang again. Tell him he needs to be ready to bring up his contacts."
"Whatever you say."
