Don't get too excited, it's not a new chapter. But it is a chapter of sorts. Curiousfan, my biggest and most curious fan, has put in a special request to have an internal dialogue with Karma. So one hour later, I post this. All 1,349 words of it. It has a few cliffhangers, but I'm sure you'll like it overall. Hope it does what you wanted, Sarah!
I'm not a nice girl. Of course. I can deal with that. And I deal with everyone else as well. Badly and bitchily. That's how it goes. If people hate the bitch – and they do – then the bitch gets left alone. Which is perfect, because then the hate is reciprocated, and I don't have to deal with these people.
Only this time I have to, because Carbine High-and-Mighty-Cow has given me a job that I don't want or need. And she gave me three idiots as well. Have a present, Karma! Are you excited? Of course you are! It's like getting a disgusting dress that I have to wear.
Scratch that. I know how deep it really goes.
It's funny how this is all turning out. Both funnies, the ha-ha and the what-the-fuck. Sometimes they happen at the same time. Instance. The Idiots still think there's a chance of finding Miss Harley, waiting for their valiant rescue. Total bullshit. They still think it even when they haven't seen her or Mace for… how long now? Some ridiculous amount of time, I don't know.
Why Harley, anyway? She was a cute mechanic who got abducted by a Rat. Big fucking whoop. What about prisoners of war? Get it in perspective. And yet Carbine is going through all this trouble to force me to find her. She gives me a dragon's den and then lumps me with the Idiots Three. I know why she did it, too, though I haven't told them. The fuck I would. She sent them with me because they'd keep an eye on me. They'd have a massive tantrum if I deliberately "failed". They're noble. They're like knights in fucking armour. They'll make sure I find Harley, and if I don't, then they'll dob me in and I'll get stabbed on my first night in prison.
Heh. I can see the humour in it. I don't know why she wants this, but regardless, I know how much more sinister she can be to get it. She could have just told me that if I didn't do what she wanted, I'd have an accident involving drug lords and mistaken identity. And she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Prison sounds so pedestrian by comparison. But prison is perfect to scare me.
And she did scare me.
Prison is perfect because inmates can't smuggle guns in. Tumult already tried that bullet-in-the-brain approach and I still didn't die. But prison? Death by pen-knife. Unexplained. Rivalries and murders behind walls that enclose you in a totally different world. Nobody would know. That's the death that I'm really afraid of.
She's a very smart bitch.
No wonder she's a general.
I think Harley's dead. I think this is a chicken-tooth chase, to be honest. I mean, seriously. What are the chances? She's been gone for so long. We won't find her. We can't find her. And yet Idiots Three think they can. And that I'm going to help them do it.
Fuck off.
I'm still sort of pissed. Sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting them.
Which is weird. Because I'm not. It's like I'm a mother trying to teach a child how to read the alphabet and they're already onto chapter books. They don't know everything, but they know more than I thought.
Even if half of it is just dumb fucking luck.
My mother always used to tell me to stop swearing. Heh. I remember that now. It encouraged me to swear even more. It fulfilled its purpose when she told me to stop.
I'm kind of glad, really. I'm glad I'm not doing this alone. I don't want them here, but at the same time I like the company. If we were all out on a road-trip or something – y'know. I do enjoy them. I like their enthusiasm. They're a lot of fun.
And Throttle's a hottie. He was that guy in high school who was adored, not popular. He would have been sincere all his life. He really gives a damn, he really wants to help.
Jesus, the mine out on the field was scary.
I would have been upset if he died.
And it's kind of cool with the whole cyber-specs thing.
But whatever.
When I started tracking, I was still living out. It was Baby and me. I walked into that town like I owned it, smoked outside the pub like a hooker and casually asked the locals if there was any work. There was always work, but it didn't guarantee any pay. Sometimes I'd still do it for the Hell of it. It wasn't like I was going to be around for very long anyway.
Storeman's kid got lost last night. Everyone's out lookin' for him. Yeah? Lost kid. Cute. Sure, I'll lend a hand. Got nothin' better to do.
That was how I met Skelter. They'd already called for help from the cops and Skelter was their local tracker. I was only a helping hand who volunteered, but I found the kid before he did. Why is everyone looking by the road? Fifteen year old boys who hate their family and their town and their life aren't going to walk all cheerful beside the road. He's gonna hide. He's gonna hide in them hills up there. Don't believe me? Pfft. Give me twenty minutes. The kid had lit a fire and everything. He might as well have left me a breadcrumb trail.
When I track, I think like the person I'm tracking. Apparently it's a good skill. Skelter took me out to dinner "to celebrate" and then offered me a job. He'd be my mentor, my advocate and my reference. Cool. Money. I'm in. You'll fuck up and I'll leave, but at least I'll have some jingle.
Six months later, I'm a registered private investigator. Boom. Stardom.
I did it for the money at first, until Tumult Furore shot my brains out my ear. Then I started doing it for the people. I fix other people's families because I can't fix my own.
I can't track Mace. I can't do this. I hope he hides. I hope he's gotten smart and he hides so well that even I can't find him.
When you want to find someone, you think in the same way that they do.
It's cruel.
I know him inside out and upside down, I know the individual clicks and cracks of his mind. He'll know by now that I'm onto him, and if he doesn't, he'll know soon.
We used to do everything together. We hunted together. God, we used to breathe together. And now we're avoiding each other. One's hunting the other. And I'm being told by forces divine to take the his breath away.
I don't really think Harley's dead. He couldn't do it.
I want her to be dead, though. If Harley's dead, we can pack up and go home, and Mace will have vanished and we'll never find him. Harley's our lead. Harley's their light.
If Harley's not dead and I find her, I might kill her myself for causing this shitfight.
I can't distract these guys forever. They'll figure out that I'm stuffing around. They'll ask questions. Throttle will do the asking.
What am I going to do when that happens?
Why does she want this so much? What is she trying to do?
Maybe she's found something out. Maybe it –
Oh my God.
Shit.
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