"Wait, Ray, hold on!"

"Arrogant, self-serving, maniacal, face-painting, sadistic, motherfucking, CLOWN," Rebel practically shouted as she moved hurriedly down the street. She could hear Jamie's clonky thigh highs pacing after her, but she didn't stop until she could see the nearest taxi. She breathed a loud sigh of relief as one pulled over beside her.

"Ray! You're overreacting," Jamie pressed as she slid in beside her, "he 's just not the sensitive type!"

"I don't give a rat's ass what that fucker is! Driver-man take me to Pontini's will ya?"

"Rebel, come on!"

"Look, I'm not mad at him, I get it. He wants his secrets he can have 'em, I'm not his fuckin' keeper. Besides it's only been-what? Four days? I think I can handle not being in his presence."

"Ray you're taking this way too seriously. He was probably just messin' with you!"

"I don't have the time or patience for games. If he wants to play he can play with Jazzy."

"Rebel..."

"No! That fuckin' bastard can rot for all I care. I'm not gonna-gonna-aw fuck!"

"You're cr-"

"Shut the hell up,"Rebel sniffed as she rubbed her eyes fiercely.

"Oh my God-you really do like him don't you?"

Rebel leaned her head against the glass and looked out the window. The streets passed by and she could see all of the people living their normal lives. She remembered when she had had a normal life. She had been the kind of girl that didn't stay out after dark, that did her schoolwork on time, and then her parents died, and suddenly living a normal life didn't make sense. What was the point to it all, really? She remembered that police officer that had raped her. If she had been normal she would had to relive the whole experience with a bunch of incompetent police officers half of which were dirty cops too. They would have sat her in some nondescript courtroom and made her testify, look him in the eye, and point him out in the crowd. She would have lost too, the rot in the city wsa that deep. And he would have done it again to some other girl. But sometimes there was good in being normal. Sometimes she'd see two parents lifting a child up between their arms, laughing. Sometimes a boy was playing catch with his little brother. Sometimes she imagined playing with her daughter, watching her grow, being there for her when she needed it.

"Ray?"

"Just...just shutup Jamie."

She shrugged away the comforting hand and nestled closer to the window.

. .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . ..

Pontini's was a gun range that had went up about twenty years before Rebel was born. It was a shitty place, but well stocked with all sorts of guns. Rebel went there once in a blue moon to let out steam. Of course, she was also a legend there so when she did swing by they rolled out the red carpet treatment. Stepping out of the car and paying the driver she and Jamie headed towards the battered chain link fence that marked the entrance. Her hair whipped lightly around her ears as she looked at the practically dead gun range. She opened the chain link with a clips that she had fastened in her hair and stepped inside. There was a small booth and she stepped in. She looked around at the old photos, the knick knacks that were scattered across the dusty countertop and then looked down. A musty old carpet puffed little dust clouds as she stamped on it with her boots. She leaned down and pulled it off revealing a small door. She always thought that Vincent was a bit cliche when it came to the trapdoor, but she smiled at the thought of seeing the hardened ex-con again.

"Ray, come on, you know this is a bad idea."

"And yet I continue."

"Ray listen to me dammit," Jamie yelled as she grabbed Rebel by the arm.

Rebel turned and fixed Jamie with an icy glare.

"So that's the way it's gonna be, huh?"

"I guess so."

Jamie huffed angrily and turned away. When she left Rebel sighed, relieved. She knew what she was doing was stupid and childish, but for one moment she wanted to be the one laughing instead of the clown. She was tired of him pushing her buttons and pulling all the strings, she wanted to have control for once. So what if her next decision was going to be a stupid one at least she wasn't being herded by a sadistic clown in grease paint. She pressed the keypad buttons and then stepped back as the door released with a small hiss of air. She pulled it up and then proceeded down the ladder below.

. .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . ..

He was just as she remembered him. Suave, tall, ridiculously good-looking, and cocky as hell. She eyed him slowly before walking over to him. The smile he presented her with made her heart flutter just a bit, but she reigned her feelings in close. She wasn't here for a fuck or friend she just wanted to shoot something.

"Hey Vince, what's up?"

"Could ask ya da same ting, Reb."

"Yeah, yeah, I've been...busy."

"Workin' Joka or 'e workin' you?"

"How do you know about that, huh?"

"So it be true den?"

Rebel grinned at the Caribbean gun runner. His skin was a deep tan color and his curly brown hair was pulled back into a straight pony tail. His body was the way she remembered it, thoroughly ripped, thoroughly tanned, and all kinds of delicious. Her inner beast growled, but outwardly she only let him see her poker face. She had lost control with him before and afterwards she had known immediately that it was a mistake. They were great together physically, but he didn't have a perosnality that suited her. He wasn't...wild enough.

"So what canna do fer ya, Reb?"

"I just wanna shoot somethin',"she muttered as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Well ya certainly came to de right place, step inta my office."

He threw an arm over her shoulder and she let him guide her deeper into the gunshop.

. .. . .. . .. . .. . ..

"So you're not gonna go after her?"

"Uh...no."

"Well why the hell not? She's pissed!"

"Sorta why I'm not going."

"Ugh, the two of you are ridiculous! You blow her off and she goes runnin' to Vinc-"

Jamie suddenly found herself slammed against the walla knife dancing along her carotid. She tried not to breathe too harshly the blade that close to her skin. She looked into the flat grey eyes that creeped her out. His tongue traced over his scars slowly, his brows were in a pensive position.

"Just,ah, who is Rebel running to?"

"V-v-incent?"

"And, uh, who the hell is that?"

"Old flame? Umm, a guy she d-dumped. Runs an underground gun shop, works double as s shooting range."

"Hmmm. Rebel wants to be naughty, I'm...game."

"Crap."