XXXI.

THEM BONES

Summer was coming to an end. The new school year was at everybody's doorstep. A family was slowly recovering, but a certain couple were still struggling with the matter at hand. Lupa was still socially reclusive, opting to remain in her room most of many days. Her weekly appointments with Dr. McBride had been going smoothly, but Clyde believed that she was still holding back so much. Lincoln did all he could to help her, heal her in his own fatherly way. The other adults stuck close to her, giving her, listening to her, asking her to tag along and all sorts of bonding activities. She never showed it, but Lupa was grateful for their consideration. The problem is that the guilt she carried was too venomous, lethal poison traversing her veins and inflicting her aching heart.

It did not help at all that she may now know a terrible secret. One that involved the second participant in this cruel game of deception between the two of them.

Lyra for her part has stuck to her promise. Both to Lemy, her parents and her new mentor; Frank. For the past six weeks she has not committed a single crime, has not engaged in a single act of vigilantism and to a far lesser extent and against her own feelings is trying to re-adjust back into her old life, attempt or give the appearance that she desires to reconnect with her family once more.

Easier said than done.

At the moment she was out on the streets, jogging in full gear alongside Lynn as her workout companion. As of now both women had jogged around four miles back and forth, Lynn could do much more than that, but for Lyra she was staring slow. Lyra on her behalf wanted to push herself and began to carry a weight vest to add more strength to her endurance and strength. Her wounds had healed, so now she was concentrating on upgrading her body to as close of a peak performance as she could reach. Aunt Lynn had been a tremendous coach for her niece, Lyra was giving it her all to and the older woman couldn't feel anymore prouder.

Since beginning her rigorous workout routine, Lyra had been feeling stronger both physically and mentally. Weight lifting, cardio and all the self-defense lessons and all the gun training by Frank to boot were doing wonders for her. Lyra was fully engaged in improving herself, for when the time came to carry her guns again she would be a lethal assassin. An angel of death.

Both reached their home, muscles aching, but not exhausted.

"Not bad. You are doing amazing!" Lynn wiped all the sweat off her forehead, "I never realized just how dedicated you could be. I should have gotten my hands on you from a young age...you and Lacy can still be world class athletes."

"Sounds...nice...would be...fun." Lyra huffed, removing her vest and tossing it on the front porch. She would need a shower and a quick rest before heading out later to Frank's place.

Once inside she hit the shower and retreaded into her room. On her way she stopped in front of Lupa's room and attempted to knock on her door, but held back that thought. Both of them were still sorting things out, even as the months had passed on, an emotional barrier still stood, keeping them separated. She knew Lupa was in there, yet for her in her own mind it was still too soon to confront each other. Call her a coward. Ironic, giving her current career choice.

Locking herself in her room Lyra grabbed her brother's guitar and sat down on his bed. With pick in hand she played out a soft melody. Lately she has been using music to express her emotions. McBride had said it was a great way to let out her pain, he wasn't wrong, but she already had a self-helping remedy; killing criminals.

"Lyra everything good?" Her father spoke behind the door.

"Yeah...I'm cool." Her voice, barely a whisper with no emotion behind it.

"Your mother is here. Just letting you know. " Lyra made no expression to the news, still focused on the rhythm of her chords and tuning the strings to the precise pitch.

"...Okay. Thanks."

Her mother was still trying. She was a persistent one and Lyra didn't know whether to admire her for it or feel increasingly agitated over it. Her anger still resided within her, but the worst had passed and now all she felt was indifference with Luna and her constant attempts at reconciliation.

After twenty-something push ups, Lyra got dressed up and headed downstairs.

Down below, Lincoln made some coffee while Lynn sat opposite of Luna who looked less punk-rock and more casual with her attire. It appears that her chaotic lifestyle had become a hindrance, a terrible reminder of her children's past and was attempting to appear more 'normal' to her daughter. Another thing she had committed too was sobering up; no booze, no drugs, no smoke. Lincoln found it bizzare and was certain that she would relapse eventually. Old habits die hard.

Still he supported her desire to clean up and be responsible. It put a smile on his face to see her in this way. If only things had been like this long ago. Maybe perhaps both of them...they would still…

"So have you found anything yet?" Lynn's question brought him back to reality as both women looked at each other.

"I already had two phone interviews and...uh, my resume is a bit...old and well…" Luna failed to sound confident at her job hunting prospects. It had been a rough month, trying to re-establish herself back in town. If she meant to be a real mother again then she needed to shed away all her vices and prove herself worthy to Lyra once more.

"Five years of jumping from town to town with no actual career longevity does that to people." The room dropped in temperature as Lynn silently judged her to which Luna looked away in shame.

"I know you'll find something eventually." Lincoln wedged himself into the conversation, stopping Lynn from guilt-tripping Luna any further, "It takes time, but I know you can do it."

"Thanks." Luna thanked him.

Around that moment Lyra descended down the stairs making her presence known to the adults. Giving one quick glance to her mother she headed out the house, "I'm hanging out with Terry. Be back before 9pm."

"Lyra, wait." Luna got up from her seat and followed.

Outside the beaming sun slowly ascending to its highest point, Summer was close to an end, yet the weather remained warm this high up north. Lyra stood on the sidewalk waiting for her friend to arrive and she couldn't get here any faster as her mother approached behind her. Closing her eyes, Lyra gave out a soft sigh as the same song and dance between them went forward into another round.

"How did training go?" There she went, creating conversation for the sake of conversation. Anything just to hear her voice and know that her daughter was still communicating with her.

"Great." Lyra said.

"You know...Sam and I have been talking about settling down. Sounds nice don't you think?" Luna remained behind her and dared not take a step further or reach out a hand to her.

"Finally admitting your music career was a load of dreaming garbage huh?" Pulling back no punches, Lyra remained as brutal as her true, hidden persona.

Luna winced back, on another occasion she would scoff at her petty insults, but things were different now. Every word from her mouth was sacred to the older woman. Her daughter's opinions were now her only means of atonement of a hedonistic past. Six weeks have gone by and not much has changed between them. Lyra acknowledging her with such minuscule small-talk was a god-send for Luna and she relished the opportunity as many times as she could.

"...I have a few good jobs lined up. Nothing special, but they are well-earning." Luna composed herself, refusing to show weakness to her daughter.

"Good luck with that." Lyra replied back.

Terry's car showed up and stopped in front of the two women. Without another word Lyra climbed aboard and the car drove off, of course not before Terry gave Luna an apologetic look. Luna stood alone on the front lawn watching the car drive off into the distance. One day she hoped, one day they would be a family again, until then she had to prevail and move forward no matter how painful the transition could become.

At Maverick Gun Shop...

The clock read eighteen-hundred hours, the store had closed about two hours prior and the only inhabitants still dwelling inside the giant warehouse were two teenage girls and a grizzled old veteran coaching the techniques of properly handling a gun. That was the agreement. Weekly appointments of gun training under the guise of hanging out with the girls to keep the family at bay from any suspicion.

Terry chilled in the lounge area, smoking a cigarette while watching hilarious videos on her smartphone. Out in the actual range, Lyra and Frank were finishing up her mid-range shooting.

Frank stood in the back observing. Lyra with her headset on held tightly to the submachine gun aiming down her sights. A Beretta PMX using nine millimeter bullets was her weapon of training and her shoulder and arms shook as she pressed on the trigger and shot up the intended paper target. Firing off more shots she aimed for the red center as much as she could. Once her clip had emptied she put down the SMG and grabbed the handgun next to her, a Smith Wesson SD9 VE nine millimeter. Frank in the back presses a button and the bullet-riddled target moves out of the way and a new fresh target takes its place.

Lyra aims and opens fire. Expending all sixteen rounds she lowered the handgun and removed her headset and shooting range glasses as both targets were mechanically moved to the front for the two of them to view them properly.

"Well...you're great with a handgun, but still far from aiming at the center with an automatic rifle." Frank noted, demonstrating both targets. She hit closer to both red centers in the torso and head with the handgun indeed.

"Nobody is perfect." Lyra scoffed, eyeing her handiwork, "Besides, these two are good enough dead."

"Any idiot can fire a gun, but remember what I told you." Frank reminded the young woman of her first lesson.

"A real soldier needs just one bullet to finish the job." Lyra recited.

"As much as you would rather shred them to pieces with a full magazine, it's a waste of resources doing so...a waste of my valuable resources. I still have a business to maintain. These damn bullets ain't cheap to purchase." Waving his hands around to make his point, Lyra wryly smiled back at his expense.

Finished in the target range both walked upstairs to Frank's living quarters, this warehouse shop of his also doubled as his place of residence; two for one deal. Reaching the second floor both stopped in front of a locked room to which only Frank held the sole key for. Unlocking the door the duo walked into a small storage room, wide enough for it to be a very small room. Inside there was a large bulletin board covered up by a large digitized copy of the Royal Woods and the surrounding counties, Detroit was also included. Various red pins decorated different parts of the map and underneath each one a yellow sticky note with written information. On a much closer look these many spots on the map were actually the areas where Lyra had been 'hunting' as well as the possible whereabouts of the gang that claimed her brother's life.

Frank had been at work long before Lyra had agreed to their partnership. From the moment she had first stepped foot in his shop about two months ago he had been following her deeds more closely than anyone else. All of these random murders, all of them cold-hearted criminals or degenerate delinquents, he had been trailing behind her making sure she was on the right track.

Lyra took a hard glance at the set of photos pinned on the wall to the left of the board.

All mugshots of possible targets, people she believed had a hand in Lemy's murder or an association with said murderers. One thing that connected them all into the same thread so-happened to be the street gang they all claimed membership to.

Flashback…

"Motor City Machine Guns." Frank had laid out the gang's profile in a neat folder for her to read.

"That's a mouth-full." Lyra opened the folder and flipped through the many pages of available information he had acquired from the Detroit Police Department's databases as well as crime journalists.

Everything that involved them for the past year was all in printer and written paper. Arrests, convictions, trials, known activities; It was a gold mine. This man who had no business whatsoever lending his hand to a stranger, more so an unlawful vigilante with blood on her hands.

"How the fuck did you manage all of this? My brother's case has practically gone cold at this point. The cops have lost interest or found the latest sensation to pursue!" Lyra fumed, it was true, the police department had exhausted their resources attempting to pinpoint the murder on someone. That did not feel wonderful at all for the family, especially Lyra. She was determined to kill them all, but had expected an inkling of hope that this nation's law would exact justice before she did.

"Once you gave me his nickname, I traced it back to Detroit. Used some of that dirty money of yours to unzip some mouths that sang some beautiful tunes for you to learn. Also Terry did her part."

"You don't say?" The paperwork was full and she feverishly read each piece of paper with absolute precision.

The Machine Guns were a notorious gang from Detroit, as far as the statistics stated, membership was at around two-hundred-and- thirty rounded out as of three years ago and the murder rate was on an even balance. As she read on she learned more and more about them. Drugs, prostitution, robbery and murder, specifically murder-for-hire.

"The Guns have been known to be street enforcers for the much bigger organizations. Especially the mob. If the pay is good enough they will accept a contract." Frank explained.

"Jesus Christ, the mob, Frank?" For a second she felt small, intimidated by the prospect of facing a much more powerful and infamous entity, but she pushed it all back refusing to get cold feet, damn her to hell if she ever did.

"We don't have to worry about those pesky Italians. The Machine Guns are just one small crew independent from them, whatever happens to them is not of their concern. They're expendable." He assured, but Lyra still kept her doubts.

"Won't they get pissed off anyhow that one of their main lapdogs got wiped out?" Lyra asked.

"Gangs come and go. Besides, if my sources are correct, then Mr. Dice." He handed her a sheet of papers stapled together, the first page contained a mugshot of the man himself, "Is looking to either break-away or deal behind the gang's back. He has major heat with the upper leadership after losing the money that you so humbly acquired from that trailer park shootout."

She listened carefully to his every word. Simulating the possible events in her head brought about a sadistic grin to the young woman. Maybe this could be of usage to them. The perfect trap for him and the other two. Looking down on his profile once more she scanned his full name: Donnie Gallagher. Twenty-six years of age, born and raised in Detroit, never going to make it to twenty-seven once she gets her hands on him.

Present Time…

The waiting game was over and the hunt would finally resume. She still had a lot more to learn, still required an extended amount of hours to hone her skills as a prominent marksman and tactician. She had some places she wanted to scout and hopefully get involved in some lethal engagement. There she went again thinking recklessly, but the itch was getting strong, she wanted to, needed to, hunt them down.

Terry has kept her ear on the ground helping out in any way possible, so has her common friend and Lyra's new informant, Quick.

Both have been working around the clock to provide her with fresh results. Well she knew that one of them was, the other she would grill him for it. Dice, or Donnie as she now knew him as was somewhere out there alongside the other guy, Johnny was his name? She would find them. It was just a matter of time and she had been patient long enough.

"Those hands of yours are not only good with musical instruments, but also with instruments of death." Lyra wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or a statement, she took both with a heap of pride.

"I'll never be as good as you were." She said.

"We all have our limits." Frank took a seat, wincing as his body shifted down into a comfortable position, "I went through the shit, Afghanistan was a mean and unapologetic bitch."

Frank looked away from her and stared off into the map for the city. Eyes wandering, but not really searching for anything of interest. He was lost deep in thought, almost like he was reminiscing about older times. "I lost so much in that desert; fallen brothers, fallen peace, lost hope for those innocent women and children. I lost a part of myself too. I'm still traversing that vast sandy and dry region... searching for a fight that I know I will not get."

Lyra remained quiet as she heard his woefully tale. She could see it in his eyes, he was just as lost as she was. Probably the main reason he had sought her out, he saw the same insignia on her. Both lost in this world for different, yet similar reasons. Funny, finding strange allies in strange times.

"War...never ends." Lyra spoke up, catching the old man's attention.

"Yes, it doesn't." Frank agreed.

Both remained silent, basking in their common dwellings of the mind. His personal demons still haunted him, so to avoid the same fate she needed to put her own to sleep. Terry barged inside the room, knocking over a few items from the nearby desk with the shockwave of the door slam. Frank grunted at her loud intrusion while Lyra eyed her with concern.

"I got a location!" Terry announced.

Later That Night…

A storm had been in formation for a while now. Lincoln looked out the window as the young rain began to drizzle down into the earth. It was past nine and Lyra had not come home. He wanted to trust her, but he knew better than to reserve any pre-acquired judgement when it came to his oldest daughter. Her previous actions were enough to get him worried and rightfully so, checking his phone he internally debated with himself, his thumb hovering over her name tag on the list of contacts.

"If you are going to call her then call her." Looking back, Lincoln sighed and sat back down next to Sam who had swung by for a visit.

"I'm...conflicted." He slumped into the leather couch.

"Don't be, you gave her clear instructions and if she failed to uphold then we would and will hunt her down and drag her back to this house and lock her in her room." Sam glared at him with all seriousness.

Lincoln sighed at her words, she was right after all, "I don't want to impose my will on her, never again. She has lost trust. Ever….ever since that night, she has changed. I will call her and search for her myself, but again I need her to be herself again. I want Lyra to be the loving teenager she once was."

Sam smiled back at him. Luna was right, he was changing, trying to better himself from his past self. There was still so much to be done however, with Luna deciding to stick around and get a job to be closer to her daughter and Lincoln doing his best to fix his mistakes, this family was far from being fully healed, but they were heading down the right path. Except for Lyra, she was running the opposite way.

"She's in there, underneath all that hate and agony she is drowning in. We all need to work together to pull her out and save her from herself. You, me, your sisters and Luna we all need to let go of the past, our past...one that does not need to be repeated." Sam frowned at the memories, thinking hard at all their misfortunes.

"You were always great at talking sense. I'm glad you stuck by Luna, keeping her from committing further stupidity." Lincoln grabbed her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

"She would be locked up in some shitty prison somewhere in Seattle if I weren't looking out for her." Sam smiled.

It had been a long time, but the emotions were still there. Sam was always reliable and a godsend to Lincoln and Luna, not to mention a great babysitter for the kids. The respect was mutual and both had an understanding. Their common love for Luna tied their bonds together and it was for that same reason that both ended up hooking up much to Luna's pleasure. Of course that ship had sailed and never came back, now between the two grown adults only friendship withheld the test of time.

"I never got the chance to tell you this, but...I never held anything against you." Lincoln spoke up to her, "When you chose to leave with Luna, I understood. She...it's hard not to want that woman. I was actually grateful that you chose to travel with her. As previously stated she would be totally lost without you, that or in worse predicaments. Thank you for looking out for her, Sam."

"Anything for the two of you." Sam leaned over and placed her head against his shoulder which he reciprocated.

"You two really need to clear the room, you know?" She said.

"I wish it were that easy." Lincoln sighed.

"I'm sure she is just waiting for an invitation. It's rude to keep a lady waiting, Linc." Sam teased him.

For those few minutes Lincoln and Sam temporarily forgot about Lyra's curfew. They would address her about it regardless, but for now they embraced the peaceful silence of the usual loud house.

South-side of Detroit…

The storm had evolved and a downpour was now consuming the motor city as the darkness of the sky clashed with the lights of the many buildings, street lamps and vehicles coming to life. On a bad side of town many of the city's denizens ran for cover as the rain splattered all it touched. A man paced up towards a building with a canvas awning for shelter, but was shoved away from the men already standing in place.

"The fuck?" He cursed them out, but neither man reacted back to the insult.

"Private property, fuck off." One of the men stated.

The young man was ready to retort, but backed away the second the other man flashed a gun he had concealed under his shirt. Watching him flee down the street both men smirked and stood guard, eyeing any other pedestrians looking to walk up to them. The door behind them opened and a third person popped his head out to greet them.

"You two want some beer?

"Sure thing."

"How's the boss doing by the way? Is he winning?"

The man holding on to the door shook his head, "He better, that was a shit-ton of money he lost. The big boss is not too happy about that fuck up."

On the other side of the building across the street, up on the rooftop someone was approaching the edge. Wearing a raincoat the person held a long black plastic case. Placing it on the ground she unlocked it and opened it up to reveal a carbine rifle with a scope. Grabbing the rifle with both hands the person examined it and grabbed one the magazine clips and loaded the weapon.

The hoodie hid most of the face, but it was obvious enough to recognize the vigilante of Royal Woods.

Lyra placed the rifle on the ledge and crouched to one knee. Through the scope she scanned the building in front of her. The neon sign in front of the place indicated that the store was nothing more than a simple two-story pawnshop, but with one of the windows of the second floor exposed in full view she could see that the place was actually the host of an illegal poker game. Scanning further she stopped her moments and froze up as did her heart.

Right under the view of her scope and at the end of the rifle's barrel was the man she had been hunting down.

On the round green poker table alongside other criminals and misfits sat Dice, with a handful of cards and a sizable amount of chips. On the center of the table stood a bowl full of cash, probably in the hundreds. Behind Dice stood Keith leaning against the wall and smoking hash as he observed the game. Lyra had never felt such excitement as she was feeling at this very moment. Quick's info had been right after all. Dice had gone to town to earn some cash and the address was also correct, it felt too good to be true. She ignored her thoughts and focused her sights on the man that took everything from her.

Her index finger wrapped itself around the trigger as Lyra held her breath and steadied her shot.

Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

I believe them bones are me

Some say we're born into the grave

I feel so alone

Gonna end up a big ol' pile of them bones

Ah! Ah! Ahh!

* Sorry for the disappearance. You could just check my profile, but I'll recap it here anyhow.

Looking back at this story of mine, I have come to the realization that it has taken a path which I had not intended to follow. The way I have written the plot so far has greatly deviated from what it was originally meant to be. I may have expanded too much, allowed my mind to write more than it was intended and failed to keep it somewhat grounded, but that's all in the past now.

Might as well ride the lightning and make the best out of this oh sweet child of mine.

* The ending is still the same, I just took an unintended detour along the way to get there.