I was in two minds about adding a warning to this chapter. If you've already made it this far then you know I'm quite a graphic writer, and you know Lachance is a vengeful little shit. But I'm going to give you a small warning - Lachance and Johnny catch up with William Sharp. It gets dark. And I want you to read it anyway.

Now on with the story...

Deep in conversation with Enrique, Lachance stepped out of Friendly Fire and collided with Troy. There were muttered curses all round.

'Good to see you up and about, kid,' Troy said once they had all moved out of the shop doorway.

'Thanks,' she said. She pivoted her hip towards him and pointed. 'I had to buy another revolver to replace the one the Rollerz took when… you know.'

Troy rubbed the back of his neck. 'How many's that now?'

'This is my third.'

'You need to get this one put on a string, like when you can't trust toddlers not to lose their mittens,' he said with a smile.

She laughed, surprised, and punched him in the arm. 'Fuck you. What I need to do is stop getting knocked out.'

'Yeah, that works too.'

There was a moment of awkward silence as she broke eye contact.

'What you here for, man?' Enrique asked.

'Ah, Julius has got these plans for stocking the church with shotguns and SMGs, but guess who actually has to do the bitchwork,' Troy said.

'For real? Yo, that was totally my idea,' Lachance said proudly.

'So, I got you to thank, huh?'

'Yep.'

'Great. Well, since it was your bright idea, how 'bout you help me with the order?'

Lachance made a sweeping gesture to indicate her injured chest. 'Aw, I'd love to, man, but I can't carry shit,' she said with mock remorse, her eyes shining with amusement. 'You know how it is.'

'That's cool, don't need you to carry anything,' Troy said. He pushed open the door. 'You just need to decide which models we're gonna get, how many, and how much ammo but at the same time keep within a budget.'

'Ugh, sounds like homework.' As she followed, Lachance rolled her eyes at Enrique, who fixed her with a judgemental look. She made a 'go to hell' face in return, quickly smiling to cover it when Troy turned. 'S'up,' she said.

Troy lifted his chin at Enrique over her shoulder. 'You mind if I borrow her?'

'Fill your boots, man,' Enrique said casually. He lifted his eyebrows at her scowl. 'See you around, homie.'

'Yeah, see ya, Quique,' she said, and flipped him off. Back inside the gun shop, Lachance made her way over to the counter where Troy was waiting for a brochure. She matched his posture, leaning her elbows on the glass countertop.

'So, you two are tight,' Troy said.

'Yeah. What of it?'

He leaned so that his arm nudged her shoulder.

'Always so defensive. I'm just sayin'. It's good you've got guys you can rely on.'

'Oh. Right. Yeah, me and him been close since that shit at the docks. Seems like ages ago now, but it's not really.'

'I hear you,' he said. 'Dodging bullets with someone kinda cuts through years of bullshit when it comes to getting to know 'em, huh?'

'I guess.'

The clerk handed Troy a fat booklet. He nodded his thanks then pulled out a slip of paper from his back pocket. Lachance wrinkled her nose at the numbers and figures scribbled on it.

'That looks hella boring, man,' she said.

'Hey, you wanna make Lt, you gotta be able to think about this stuff.'

'Get bent. Like you make Gat do math.'

'He's surprisingly good with average ammo use and blast radius guesstimations.'

Lachance stared.

'I make Johnny do math,' Troy said slowly. He covered the piece of paper with his hands. 'Okay, forget about the numbers. Imagine that you're in church, just a regular day, and someone has run in to say the Row is under attack. Now - how many guys are there with you?'

She frowned but tried to humor him. This was the most civil they had been with each other for what felt like a long time, and she liked it. If getting shot put them back on the road to friendship, then she was going to run with it. She closed her eyes and counted her imaginary homies.

'There's… about twenty of us?'

'Yeah, that sounds about right for a normal day. So, how many would go for a shotgun, and how many would favour a SMG?'

'Um, I'd say it's about fifty-fifty with these guys.'

'Mm hmm. Now - you've gone running out to whack the sons of bitches who are attacking. How many rounds do you reckon you'd all go through?'

She opened one eye. 'Dude, I get headshots. How many bad guys are there? That's how many bullets I need.'

'Anyone ever tell you how modest you are, kid?'

'Fuck modest. S'true.'

Smiling, Troy held his hand over her eyes. 'There's about thirty VK. Your gun has locked - don't argue, it just has. The Saints with you - how many times can you hear them re-load?'

In her head the battle played out. Guns crashed above the screams of the dying and her homies called for cover. Some of them, like Enrique and Noah, were careful with their shots, one blast of their shotguns or pistols took down one enemy unless they missed. Others, like Chris and Sue, sprayed the ranks of yellow with reckless abandon, missing less often, but also killing less often and using way more bullets.

'I… shit. This is hard.'

'You're doing great.'

An unbidden smile stole across her face. She took his hands in hers and moved them from her face. 'Yo, how come I'm doing all the hard work for you? How many d'you reckon?'

His thumb moved over hers gently. 'I already got that worked out. You tell me and I'll tell you.'

She held his gaze for a moment before she dropped his hands to grab the brochure from the counter. She cleared her throat. 'Ai-ight. I think we should go for twice what I thought in case it's a Saturday night. So... fifteen pump-action and five automatic shotguns, 'cause autos are more expensive and motherfuckers seem to prefer the pump-action ones. Action-movie hero shit. For the SMGs, twenty TK3s should be good. Gat says the SKR-7 isn't worth the extra money. Ammo - as much as we can afford with whatever's left. We're gonna go through fuck-tons of that shit.'

Troy was nodding. 'Pretty close to what I've got, kid.'

She blinked and slapped him with the brochure. 'Holy shit. There's teachers back in juvie who'd high-five you, bro.'

The smile hadn't left his face. He gave her a little shrug before turning back to clerk to arrange the Saints' gun order.

While they were both preoccupied, Lachance quickly grabbed a box of Hammer hollow-point ammo from a display on the counter and stashed it in the pocket at the front of her hoodie. She sidled back to Troy as he handed over a credit card.

'Do you wanna get something to eat?' he asked.

'You know me; so long as it ain't Freckle Bitch's, then yeah. Ooh, let me take you to this place just around the corner, they do the best po' boys in the city.'

With the order concluded, Troy followed Lachance out of Friendly Fire as she headed towards The Bayou Kitchen. It was a small place, tucked away in a quiet street and one of the city's many hidden gems that Lachance had sought out in her first few weeks of freedom. A bright yellow and white striped canopy hung over the window, and the delicious smells of fried seafood and spicy sausage wafted out into the street as they entered.

She asked for the Voodoo chicken, convinced Troy to try the Cajun shrimp, and they took a table by the window. They chatted about this and that, how the new neighbourhoods were running, how the new recruits were coming along, the details of new protection rackets, pimps and pushers. While they talked, Lachance took care to keep one eye on the time.

When their sandwiches arrived, Troy mentioned an idea he'd had to run a blood drive, in part inspired by her near death experience.

'We go though a lot of the red stuff. Be good to give back,' he said, taking a bite. 'Wow, this is good.'

'I know, right?' she said. 'My next intervention is to get Gat off the Freckle Bitch's too.' She checked her phone for the time again.

'Am I keeping you from something?' he asked good-naturedly.

'Uh, I'm meeting him soon. Gat. I got time to eat but I don't wanna be late.'

'Yeah? What you guys up to?' The question was delivered casually, but the set of his shoulders and the way he sat forward made Lachance think Troy was more interested in the answer than he wanted to show.

She took a long slurp of soda, giving herself time to think. 'We're just gonna hang. No biggie,' she said eventually. 'He's gonna show me his boat, try and get me over this thing I got about open water.'

A statement which in itself was not a lie. Johnny had threatened to take her out and throw her overboard to help her get past her nightmares; they just wouldn't be doing that today.

Troy gave her a doubtful look, but seemed willing to let it slide and picked up an errant crispy shrimp that had made a bid for freedom from his sandwich. They sat in silence for a while, each concentrating on their food.

'Lachance, about Johnny...'

She grimaced at his tone of voice. It was the dad voice. 'Ugh. What?'

'I know this'll probably piss you off-'

'Then maybe you shouldn't say it.' She sighed. 'This has been nice, you know? But you start talkin' shit 'bout him then me and you are gonna fall out again.'

'I just want you to be careful. The two of you together are a formidable force, but there's gotta be a line.'

'A line? The fuck, man?'

'I mean civilians; day-to-day people who can get caught up in our shit and-'

'Oh, is this about that Vice Kings thing?' she asked, sitting back and slinging an arm over the chair next to her. 'I heard you bitchin' to Dex after that happened.'

His expression hardened. ''That Vice Kings thing' left twenty-four dead and thirteen injured.'

'Your point being… what?' She flashed a savage smile and sat forward, leaning towards him over the table. 'Wasn't the Saints who did that, Troy.'

'It was still you. I saw the news footage from Nob Hill. You and Johnny turned killing people into a goddamn game.' He looked around at the startled cashier's gasp and lowered his voice. 'He's a psychopath. Don't lose yourself trying to impress him.'

Her smile faded. 'You don't know what you're talkin' about,' she said. 'Just drop it, man. I don't want to fight.'

'Fine,' he said, holding up his hands. 'Fine. I've said my piece.'

Lachance checked the time as he lit a cigarette. She pushed herself to her feet. 'Stop tryin' to save me,' she said quietly. 'I'm already lost.'

Troy held her eye as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. 'I don't believe that.'

She managed to swallow down the unfamiliar feeling that rose in her chest at his words. Her voice almost sounded normal when she said with a shrug, 'Whatever. See you around.'

x.x.x

It was starting to rain when she arrived at the corner where Johnny was waiting for her. They were on a quiet residential street in a respectable part of town. The houses weren't as big as the mansions on Misty Lane, but they were still considerably large.

Number Thirty-Seven stood opposite, it's broad façade painted a light pastel blue, the windows highlighted by clean white frames. A climbing rose scrambled up one side; a few determined pink petals still hung to the blooms against the cold windy onslaught of Autumn.

'He here?' Lachance asked.

'Yep. Rolled up 'bout ten minutes ago. Motherfucker must be balls deep in desperate housewife pussy as we speak.' Johnny flipped away the butt of his cigarette. 'You ready?'

'Hell fuckin' yeah.' She adjusted the duffle bag that hung across her torso, trying to keep the wince of discomfort from her face as the strap rubbed against the healing wound on her chest.

Johnny noticed anyway. He looked her up and down. 'Yo, I'm only gonna ask this once, and hold you to whatever you say. You okay to do this?'

Lachance gave him a look full of angry fire. 'Yeah.'

'Ai-ight then. Let's go,' he said with a shrug.

They crossed the street and headed to the back of the house. At the rear door, Lachance knelt by the lock and removed a set of picks from her bag. Johnny kept watch while she carefully and with practised skill unlocked the door into the kitchen. She worked quickly, aware of Johnny's desire to kick it in if she made him wait too long. Yet her hands were steady despite the heavy beating of her heart, and before long there was a click as the final tumbler fell into place.

Johnny motioned for her to get behind him as his hand rested on the handle. He had drawn his pistol and fastened a silencer to its muzzle, but the firearm was only to be used as a last resort. If everything went to plan, the death of the man they sought inside would be long and painful. Lachance pulled out a switchblade and moved close.

He opened the door slowly and swept the kitchen.

'Clear,' he breathed. In a pre-planned maneuver, he checked the rooms to the left as she went right. In the prim, neat living room, Lachance could hear the creaks and groans from upstairs. A tight, grim smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Since Lin's death, Johnny had had several guys follow William Sharp to work out his routine and where he might be vulnerable. At first it had seemed that a full-scale attack would be their only option for revenge, as the Westside Rollerz financier and attorney went everywhere with a complement of guards. Until he had visited this house. He came alone, Phil had told them, twice a week, to meet the woman who lived here. At once, Johnny and Lachance had formulated the same plan - to catch the motherfucker with his pants down.

She met up with Johnny in the hallway at the foot of the stairs. A frown touched her face as she stepped over a small green tricycle. Looking again with fresh eyes, signs of the woman's kid were everywhere. Finger-painted pictures stuck on the fridge, a box of building blocks in the living room, a set of photographs on the hallway wall. She pushed those thoughts away as Johnny took the lead up the stairs and followed him.

He turned around once make a derisive sneer and tap his watch as the sounds of the couple's fucking got louder and finished abruptly. She smothered a grin and poked him in the ribs.

'Don't stop,' she mouthed.

'That's what she said,' he replied in a whisper.

She pinched her nose to cover a snicker. With light footsteps they continued upwards. The bedroom door was ajar, and through the gap Lachance watched Sharp as he climbed out of bed, walked into the en-suite bathroom and closed the door.

'Now,' she hissed.

The woman on the bed managed to let out a squeak of fear as Lachance and Johnny burst into the room. Johnny pointed his gun at her head and held a finger to his lips with a small shake of his head. Her eyes wide, she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. Lachance placed herself behind the bathroom door and closed her hand around a capped syringe in her bag of tricks.

'Eleanor?' Sharp said as he returned. He froze as his eyes fell on Johnny. 'What in the hell?'

Lachance rushed forward and jabbed the needle into his neck. 'Time for a nap, grandpa,' she said through her teeth as her thumb depressed the plunger.

'You...' Sharp gasped and clutched her arm.

She lifted her chin and looked deep in his eyes. 'Yep, me. Oh, this is gonna suck for you, you sonofabitch.'

Sharp's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor.

Lachance exhaled slowly.

'Oh my god,' Eleanor cried. 'Who are… What's going on?'

'Payback,' Lachance said. She heard a click as Johnny chambered a round and ran in front of him. 'Whoa, dude. Hold up.'

Eleanor screamed as Johnny took a step to the side. 'Get outta the way, Squirt,' he said, raising the gun so it pointed over her shoulder.

'Please, no! Don't do this-' Eleanor said.

'Shut up,' Lachance snapped. She faced Johnny. 'C'mon, she's got a kid.'

The conversation with Troy played back in her mind as she tried to stare him down.

'So what? Are you fuckin' retarded? We let her live and the bitch'll go runnin' straight to the Rollerz. Get outta the way.'

Eleanor screamed again. 'I won't, I won't, please, I promise!'

'She won't. 'Cause she knows if she does, we'll come back and kill the little fucker right in front of her. Ain't that right, Eleanor?' Lachance turned back to the terrified woman on the bed. Black curly hair hung over her face and her makeup had run, but she was still pretty.

She looked at Lachance with wild eyes. 'Y-yes. I promise. I won't say a word! Please,' she said hopefully.

After what felt like an eternity, Johnny huffed and lowered his arm. 'This comes back to bite us, and I'm takin' it out of your ass,' he said.

'Thanks, man,' she said quietly.

He grunted and moved to Sharp's naked, unconscious body. He threw a bedsheet over the old man and hauled him up and over one broad shoulder.

'Car keys,' he growled at Eleanor.

'They're in his jacket,' she said, her voice breaking. She pointed shakily to a neatly folded pile of clothes on a chair next to the bed.

'Get 'em,' he said to Lachance, then headed out of the room.

Lachance pulled a roll of duct tape out of her bag. Eleanor shrank back.

'I need to,' Lachance said. 'Gives us some time in case you do wanna fuck us over. But I really suggest you don't.'

Eleanor swallowed, nodded, and mutely held out her wrists for Lachance to bind. When she was done, she rifled through Sharp's pockets until she found his car keys and wallet. She stopped when she lifted it up and saw his gun. The one he had used to shoot her and Lin. It was a .44 Shepherd like her own. Her hand moved automatically to pick it up and stash it in her bag. Then she made her way down to the kitchen.

Johnny had kicked open the adjoining door to the garage and was leaning against the wall, his arms folded.

'The fuck, man?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'We don't gotta kill everyone.'

He tilted his head. 'I smell Troy's bullshit.'

'Fuck off. All she's done wrong is fuck an asshole. Who hasn't been there?' she said. Her eyes slid to the wrapped form on the island. 'Yo, let's move. The old bastard is gonna wake up soon.'

Johnny stared at her for a moment longer then went to grab Sharp, knocking her aside with his shoulder as he did so.

Lachance grit her teeth, cursed Troy, and walked into the garage. Sharp's car was large and luxurious, a deep midnight blue Justice. With petty pleasure she snapped off the naked female hood-ornament and put it in her bag. Another souvenir.

Johnny slung Sharp into the back, pushed a button on the garage wall to open the door, and sat in the passenger seat.

'You're letting me drive?' she asked with surprise.

'I don't drive stick,' he said.

'Oh. Okay. Cool.' She settled into the plush cream leather seat and turned the key in the ignition.

The atmosphere in the car was frosty and awkward as she drove to the warehouse Johnny had told her about as they made their plans over beer and peanuts in Tee 'n' Ay three nights ago.

'She won't say anything,' Lachance said when the tense silence became too much to bear. 'We threatened her kid.'

'Pfft, like you're gonna kill a kid if she squeals.'

'What, like you would?' she shot back.

'Fuck no.'

'Well then? But as long as she thinks we will, we're good.'

'All I know is; you don't bet what you don't got, Lachance.' He rolled his neck, making it crack. 'And never step in front of my fuckin' gun like that again.'

She chewed her lip and signalled right. She followed a dirt track to a small brick building near the railway tracks. The windows were busted out and boarded up, and the door was covered by a sheet of thin plywood. Saints' tags covered the walls.

Johnny carried Sharp inside. There was a dusty metal chair and a wheeled trolley next to it. Dark stains spread out on the floor from the legs of the chair.

'Ah, the old interrogation room,' Johnny said as he dropped Sharp into the chair. 'Tape him.'

Lachance fastened Sharp's wrists and ankles to the metal arms and legs. She was just finishing wrapping his torso when the old man groaned. A string of saliva trickled from his mouth. He blinked blearily and looked around in confusion.

'Wha…?' He took a deep breath and gathered his dignity. It was impressive to watch him glare, despite being buck-ass nude and strapped down in a building that resembled something from a horror movie. 'Where am I?' he demanded. His eyes fixed on Lachance. 'You.'

She leaned close. 'Back with us? Fuckin' A.'

'You should be dead.'

'Maybe I am. Maybe I'm a ghost, here to haunt yo' ass. Woo, motherfucker,' she said with a smile.

'Ugh. How very droll,' Sharp said with distaste. 'Do you have any idea who I am? How many of your people will die when my nephew finds out about this?'

'We know exactly who you are,' Johnny snarled. 'Enough of this fuckin' foreplay. You're gonna pay for what you did to Lin.'

Lachance got out of his way and set her bag down on the trolley. The sound of Johnny's fist connecting with Sharp's face was beautiful. She sighed happily and unzipped the bag fully, taking out a wrapped bundle which she opened with care. A set of wicked knives gleamed back at her. Johnny hit Sharp again and again. The old man spluttered and coughed as he was beaten.

Johnny gave him one last ringing blow and stepped back. He opened and closed his hands. 'Your turn,' he said.

Lachance selected a small, hooked blade that had more in common with a scalpel than a regular kitchen knife and walked slowly to the chair. The bespoke T-shaped handle fit snugly in her hand. Sharp's eyes went wide as she wordlessly demonstrated the keenness of it's edge by shaving the hairs from his forearm.

She ran her tongue over her teeth. 'You're gonna beg me to let Gat have another go,' she purred.

Sharp screamed when the knife bit into his arm and she used it to peel a thin layer of skin from wrist to elbow. The veins stood out in his purple neck as he howled when she let it drop to the floor. There were no words in his cries, the noise he made was a simple outpouring of pain.

She laughed softly when he passed out. Johnny whistled as he stood next to her.

'Shit, I knew you were good with a knife, but who taught you how to flay people, Squirt?' he asked. 'That is some neat work.'

'My mom.' She caught his expression and waved her hand. 'Not flay people though. Skin, like, rabbits and shit. She was a… survivalist.'

'For real?'

'Yeah. She always reckoned some kinda apocalypse was just around the corner. Taught me everything I know.'

'What happened to her?'

Lachance pressed her lips together and stared at the floor. 'The usual. We lived in Shivington. She got hooked on meth. Took too much. Killed herself. I was thirteen.' She shook her head and looked up. 'Yo, this is the most I've ever told anyone 'bout her, and it's to you. That's fucked up.'

'Don't ruin the moment. We're bonding. What was she called?'

'...Gemma.'

Sharp gasped as he regained consciousness, turning their attention back to him. Lachance smiled evilly and leaned down. He was trying to stay quiet as the agony flared up and down the exposed nerves in his arm. His eyes rolled as his cheeks blew out in an effort to contain his moans.

'You know what the best bit about this is?' she asked, turning the blade so that it winked in the dank interior of the warehouse. 'I can take loads more off you before you fuckin' die. Now, where next? Ooh, I know...' She traced the blade down his chest towards his crotch. His eyes bulged as he screamed at her.

Johnny laughed above the noise. 'You're fuckin' crazy. I like it, Lachance.' She couldn't help the stupid grin on her face as he continued, 'Bet you fifty bucks you can't do his saggy grey balls in one big spiral like an orange.'

'Yo, you're on,' she said, and winked at Sharp.

He pissed himself.

x.x.x.

William Sharp's screams and sobs pierced the air for long hours as evening became night.

When he finally died, Lachance stepped back and wiped a bloody arm across her bloody face. She was up three hundred dollars, and had tried to teach Johnny how to take a strip of skin so fine you could see through it, but he was heavy-handed and gouged when he should have skimmed. His strength had been appreciated when it came to breaking bones, however. Give Johnny a hammer and he could turn a wrist and fingers into dust and red mush.

She felt at peace, like the expression of Sharp's pain had purified the memories inside her, and she would be able to sleep undisturbed for the first time since she had been shot. She thought Lin would approve. It had healed the rift between her and Johnny too. She bumped the fist he held out.

'Let's get this pile of shit back into the car,' he said.

'Shame 'bout having to total his ride, dude. Handles like a fat bitch but it's gorgeous. Purple spray job and I would cruise around in it all day.'

'Yeah, well, maybe one day I'll get you one.'

'For real?' she asked.

'Nah.'

'Tease.'

He gave her a devilish grin that sent her stomach into somersaults then bent to pick up Sharp's body. She wrapped her knives and packed them back into the bag. She staggered slightly as she slung it over her shoulder and pinched the bridge of her nose then followed Johnny to the car.

Lachance drove north, to a quiet section of road that had a good deal of trees growing alongside. She pulled up facing a large oak.

'You sure you're up for this?' Johnny asked as he got out and took her bag.

'Yep,' she said, and pressed her foot down on the gas. The engine, one that would have been more at home in a WWII fighter jet, roared in response.

She still regretted having to do this, but it was part of the plan - one that shouldn't lay any blame at the Saints' door.

'Get out in once piece,' were the last words she heard as he shut the passenger door. Her eyes narrowed. She revved the engine again, then slipped the clutch. The car leapt forwards and accelerated with a ponderous inevitability towards the looming tree. She kept her foot on the floor. The gnarled boughs and branches of the centuries old tree raced towards the windshield. At the last possible moment, Lachance threw herself from the rocketing vehicle and tucked into a roll. She hit the verge hard and spun until she hit a prickly bush. The heavy Justice careered into the oak with a loud crash of glass and the screeching of tortured metal.

Lachance lay staring up at the night sky for several long moments, trying to get her breath back into winded lungs. A shooting star flashed across her vision.

Johnny's face blocked her view as he held out a hand. She took it and let him haul her upright.

'Ow,' she said. She rubbed her bruised ribs and the torn skin on her elbows. The knees of her jeans were wasted too.

'Fuckin' hell, Lachance.'

'Dude… were you worried about me?' she asked.

'Oh, lay off. You know I don't give a shit 'bout you, right?'

She held his eye. 'Right.'

They both spun as the Justice burst into flames. She closed her eyes against the warm glow.

'Shoulda brought s'mores,' he said. She smiled.