33
Ron was hanging out… literally.
As long as he lived, he did not want to take another car ride on the wrong side of the vehicle. Though he caught a nice view of the underbelly, watching some of the cables twitch at the driver's demand (when grains didn't blow into his face), feeling the drive shaft's thrum assault his ears, it was clear that it simply was not built to accommodate at all. The rather large, lumpy rock the driver rolled over drove it home all too well.
As he carefully withdrew the radio, he thanked the good Lord that his pants managed to survive the trip.
"Nacho Man to -Kimchi," Ronald whispered into his radio, "Nacho Man to -Kimchi! Come in-Kimchi! I don't have all day, you know!"
"We read you loud and clear, Nacho Man." Yune's voice fought through the crackle. It wasn't anything that messing with the squelch knob couldn't fix. "What's your status?"
"Nothing much happening on my end-Kimchi-." He replied quietly. "Just hanging out, catching a nice view of the chassis on my end. I think the driver ran over a rather big rock too."
"And what makes you say that?" The Asian replied.
"Well-Kimchi," he shrugged sarcastically, "judging by the nasty scrape swelling on my backside, I'm not exactly sure! Damn thing nearly took my pants with it!"
"Just be grateful it didn't." the man replied.
"Time will tell, dude." He sighed. "Just as soon as the target and I are out safely."
"Speaking of, have you heard any word about?"
"Affirmative, good buddy!"
"HEY!" his secret weapon squealed, shifting around his burrow swiftly before he felt the pocket flap yank open.
"I mean my other good buddy!" He carefully angled his head towards his buddy, frowning. Rufus blinked those dark, beady eyes back at him, pulling what little lips he had down a little more than what they could naturally go. "Sorry little buddy, but the puppy-dog-pout is one of a kind."
Rufus narrowed his eyes, growling gently.
"Can you keep it down, please?" he asked.
"Like I was saying, did you hear any word about the target?" Yune pressed.
"As -I- was saying," he pushed back, "I have. The Major and some goon were talking about it, amongst other things. It sounds like she outlived her usefulness. They're planning on finishing her off by midnight!"
"And it's about seven-fifteen right now!" the Korean replied. "That gives you over four-and-a-half hours to get in, get the target, and get out. Do you have any idea what's your location?"
"Um…." He took in a breath of air… a deep breath of foul, dank air, so thick and so sickeningly sweet like cola syrup that he thought he was going to choke. He had smelled something like it before, like an oil-saturated landfill. Maybe it was in Detroit, New Jersey even…. "-Uh…- God, someone turn on a fan or something!"
"Well?" Yune pushed again.
"Um…." His head felt a little bit lighter than usual. "It looks like Jersey… and-uh… - it smells like an oil spill!"
"Be serious, Nacho Man!"
"I am serous!" he exclaimed quietly. "I can't see much on my end. All I know it was a hell of a long drive here, and there was a sudden downgrade in the road before it all came to a halt."
"So it's underground." Yune replied.
"I guess."
"You eavesdropped on the Major's conversation, right?"
"I did." He nodded.
There was a moment of relative silence they shared; it was a little hard to hear with the mechanical racket about.
"And…?" Yune asked.
"And what?" he blinked.
"Did he say anything important?" -Kimchi- sighed. "I hate it when I have to spell it out for you-damn! And this is the boy who shot Colonel Drazen to pieces!"
"He was yapping about some kind of story on the BBC." He replied. "Something about moving this whole Temple Mount shenanigan to tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, I recall just seeing that on the TV."
"He also mentioned something called Solomon Rex." He continued. "He didn't say much about it, just that it was complete and the crews were busy fueling and loading it up."
"That must have been the siege weapon Hershel mentioned a while back."
"Has to be."
"Okay, Nacho Man." The man replied. "You have over four-and-a-half hours to do your stuff! Get the target to safety, if possible. And see what you can do about this Solomon Rex weapon, sabotage it, blow it up, whatever. Procure any weapons should you need them. You're armed, correct?"
"Yep." He nodded, gently giving that awkward lump in his other pocket a pat. "Got the revolver right here, with some speed loaders."
"Good."
"And what are you guys going to do in the meanwhile?" he asked.
"Don't worry about us, Nacho Man." Yune replied lightly. "We're going to crash some shmucks' band practice. Don't wait up for us."
"Rodger-dodger!" he nodded. "Over and out."
Robin was a blessing, she was. It was almost as if she had been put on this earth for this very purpose. Her Peugeot may not have been top of the line, but thankfully she had been moved to place some bungee cables in the back, the same ones that held him as the VSA unwittingly whisked him away to their base of operations.
They finally gave way to his weight with a sharp snap; he dropped a couple inches to the floor with a cough. The hooks rattled on the hummer's chassis while the severed cords slapped its underbelly. They really were flimsy, well used and the once thick braids were beginning to fray into threads and strings. Predictable, it was, even when Tara happened to find them. He was certain he'd be lost in the Negev by now… yet he wasn't. It was as though the hand of God had carried him with favor.
-God, if you're listening, thank you-
As much as he'd love to bequeath a proper prayer, he couldn't. There was so much to do and in so little time.
"It's going to be a -long- night!" he coughed.
-
Everything had seemed to withdraw itself from Shia. He felt groggy and disconnected, a serous case of medicine head though his stomach drugs included no such depressants. Maybe it was the drink; he did down a few screwdrivers along with a couple cape cods, no other or better way to down vodka, especially the triple distilled stuff.
Maybe taking up on Mr. U's deal wasn't the best decision after all. Somehow he knew it all along, and his last encounter drove it home like the final nail in the coffin. Was it possible somehow, someway that he could get out of the VSA? Probably not, so why even bother thinking along those lines.
But at least he still had Robin, currently serving his band mates some drinks. That frizzy ponytail, her beautifully rounded face, her perfectly crafted body; she was as beautiful since the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She could hardly speak a phrase of English back then, when she first stepped foot off the El Al flight, but thankfully her kin were bothered enough to teach her Hebrew. Everything simply came together not long afterwards.
"When I woke up this morning, I got out of bed…!" Mark sang disjointedly while his loose fingers brushed at the strings. His other set of fingers held the same strings at the same position close to the top of the fingerboard. "I went downstairs-to get myself SOME EGGS! But all the eggs were… uh… oh-ROTTEN, so I got in to my pickup truck to get myself SOME EGGS…! I went down to the McDonalds… to get myself SOME EGGS! The clerk at the counter was named Phyllis… and I got myself a bagel that has EGGS! Yee… HAW!"
"I think that you have had enough, Mark." Robin choked down a laugh while she quickly relieved Mark of the rest of his lager. It was such a waste, watching that golden liquid fall into the grated drain. "You were not even through your first one before you started to speak this gibberish!"
"Men of Shmuck Avenue!" Shia squinted as he put a perk in his brow, turning for his men. They were equally sloshed, the shofar player chuckling to himself hysterically while the didgeridoo player planted his face flat on the table. "I would like to propose…"
A glass shattered on the other side of the bar, breaking sharply as it hit the tiled floor. He turned back around; Robin held a hand to her mouth while he could easily see the whites of her big eyes.
"Well-hold on, Robin!" he blinked. "A toast, I propose! A toast! To Robin, my lovely girlfriend and who sweet-talked her boss into opening early-just for us!"
"HERE-HERE!" they exclaimed in unison, holding up their glasses.
She looked crestfallen. Her hands flopped at her sides while she curled into a slight hunch. Her sigh would have shot threw him like a FMJ on any other day, if we were sober.
"Don't worry, Baby." He squinted. "I still love you. I'm just not in the right frame of mind… nor is it the right time. All I want to do tonight is get drunk!"
"I will say you have done a fine job of that!" She frowned. Her mule made a clap on the tile when she stomped. "Why I bother with you, Shia, I do not think I will ever know! Look at yourself, you are tanked, stuck in that awful gang, and that ulcer will be the end of you!"
Mark laughed. "You make that sound like a bad thing…!"
"SHUT UP, MARK!" she and him shouted together.
"We did that together, Robin!" he noted. "It's a SIGN…!"
"I will tell you what, Shia." She replied. "Talk to me again when you are sober! If we truly wish to be together, then we need to sort some things out!"
"Like what, Hon?" he blinked slowly.
"I cannot continue living like this, Shia." She sighed. "I do enjoy myself with the material possessions you give me. Our apartment is wonderful, yes, and our Peugeot car drives like a dream. But what good is any of it if I cannot share it with my mate?"
"Uh…?" he couldn't help but scowl.
"Do you know how many sleepless nights I have when you are away?" she asked. "I have a lot of them. I have terrible dreams that I find you dead in a gutter. I wake up in the middle of the night, and you are not there to comfort me! Do you know what that is like, Shia Bonnet?"
"Uh…?"
"It is Hell!" she cursed. "I want you, Shia!"
"What?" He batted his eyes. "Right now? In front of the band, and with Joshua in the back?"
"Do not be dense, Shia!" she huffed. "You know what I mean! Shia, I love you, but if we want to be together, I want you out of that terrible militia pronto!"
"Well…." He nodded slowly. "I'm glad you brought that up, Rob."
"And why's that?" she crossed her arms.
"Because I was thinking the same thing." He said. "After this morning, Mr. U. drove home the reason why I even joined his army in the first place. Out of anger, hatred, for money-pretty much why everyone else joined with him. But now I see what you've seen for months, Robin. He is the Devil, king of the underworld pushing a little closer to heaven with drug money and violence. Avi lost his life for him today, and he has nothing but a dark, fiery eternity ahead of him."
"So you finally saw him for what he really is?" she placed her hands on the bar top, leaning for him. Her dark eyes brimmed with gravity.
"Yep." He nodded. "A monster… just as you said!"
He couldn't finish his sentence; Robin wouldn't let him as she pushed her lips against his. He felt one of her hands cup against the back of his skull, pushing him in deeper before she withdrew completely.
"Oh Shia-this is great!" she beamed, mules clopping on the tile as she hopped giddily. "But when do you plan on leaving the VSA?"
"That's just it, Rob." He shrugged. "I don't think I can."
"What?" she blinked. "What do you mean? Of course you can, Shia! You always have a say in the matter, regardless of who says different."
"No…." he shook his head. "I can't."
"Yes, you can!" he felt that warm, familiar feeling tingle inside when she placed her hands on his shoulders. "You always have a choice!"
He brushed them off-and the barstool screeched as he jumped to his feet.
"DAMN IT, ROBIN!" he shouted, so loud it even made Mark jump. Robin eased herself a step back. "I DON'T! I've done horrible things, Robin! Back when I had a free will, I chose to serve this dark master, and committed horrible atrocities in his name! I'm in so deep, I'll never see the light of day again!"
"YES, YOU DO!" she shouted back, moving toward him a step. "YOU HAVE ALWAYS HAD A CHOICE! YOU CHOSE TO GO WITH UZZIEL, YOU CHOSE TO DO THOSE THINGS, AND STILL YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE NO CHOICE! THAT IS BULLSHIT, SHIA! AND THE SOONER YOU REALIZE THAT, THE SOONER YOU CAN TAKE CONTROL!"
"You don't get it, Rob." He held out a hand in peace. "Maybe you will someday, but today… no!"
"What am I going to do with you?" Robin shook her head.
"Love him, fuck him…?" Mark suggested.
"Well yes, of course…!" Robin nodded-before those dark eyes went wide again. "Hey-wait a minute!"
The whole bar joined the chucklehead in a burst of laughter. The didgeridoo player managed to smack his head against the table again and again. He laughed too. When one is like golden drop in the beer tap of life, it was best just to go with the flow. Even Robin couldn't stifle herself.
The bell jingled loudly as the door pushed its way through, heels clacked softly upon the floor, loudening steadily as the hinges announced to everyone that the door was going to shut. The patrons of the bar he knew well, inside and out, his klezmer present and accounted for. Even Robin's brother had managed to lumber his big self inside for a moment before he vanished through the swinging door behind the bar. He couldn't help but to take a gander, shifting his head appropriately.
The door squeaked closed behind a knockout blonde, at least in his mind's eye, her skin barely a shade darker than the long, wavy hair swaying gently behind her small back. Two light blue eyes dotted her face above her button nose. A blue halter-top squeezed at her firmly, forming tightly against the curves of her torso. A black skirt draped off from her hips at the waist, reaching several inches above her knees. She had managed to squeeze her feet into a pair of tight pumps, pushing her heels off the ground by a couple inches.
Vague familiarity swept over him like the air circling down from the ceiling fan. That hair, that face, those baby blue eyes… so content and gentle, he had seen her before and he had a pretty good idea where. And if she was here…
-Where's her little love buddy…- His mind pondered.
"I'm sorry…." The blonde said softly. "Is this bar open? I just saw people inside, and I thought!"
"Um-do not worry, Miss…." Robin welcomed shakily. Shia took a glance at his woman; he couldn't help but catch that rather surprised batting with her eyes. Something was up. "Typically, this bar does not open for another few hours, but tonight, the manager was feeling rather generous! We even have the honor a klezmer here tonight! I am sure they will play a song, if you were to ask them."
"Don't worry, cutie…!" Mark was already on the hunt, catching that first scent of fresh blood in the dizzying sea of liqueur. "I'll sing you a song, all right! Why don't you back that sweet thing up, and I'll play you a little tune!"
"No thanks." If the blonde was cringing, she was hiding it well. "I just want a quick drink, then I'll leave."
"Are you sure…?" Mark said. "I could always sing about… uh…!"
"About what, Mark?" He chuckled.
"Like yesterday morning… for one!" Mark blinked. "Or infinity for that matter…! 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10…! Oh-an all time favorite! 'What the Hell's Grandma Looking At?' That has to be the greatest song I ever wrote, between long naps at my job at the grocery store and passing out drunk at home!"
"I always wondered when Shmuck Avenue would hit rock-bottom and now it's here!" Shia chuckled bitterly.
"Do not say that, Shia." Robin said comfortingly. "I am sure that you guys will be great someday, make it big even. But just not today."
"I know." He nodded.
"Excuse me…."
The blonde took to second stool beside him, letting her feet catch on the stool's support by the heels. Shia smiled confidently; the big man upstairs liked him, so he thought. He shouldn't throw away such a gift that God had given him. Robin and he were going to be free after all.
"I'd like a Heineken, please." The blonde said.
"But of course, Miss." Robin nodded. "Just so that you know, we do not have it on tap at the moment. We only have it in those keg cans. Is that okay?"
"Yep!" the blonde nodded back. "I like how they're shaped. It's just so cool! And given how I'm going back to America soon, I won't be able to touch the stuff for another few years at least."
"Ah… America…!" Robin said, turning for the bar. A glass rang briefly as she took it from the shelf while her other hand went for the mini fridge. "The land of opportunity, and overall tranquility! You should be grateful that your people do not have to live with the uncertainty that your friends and loved ones may not come home ever again."
"I guess so." The girl shrugged. "Though the big terror attacks changed everything. A smart man can never look at the Arab minority the same way again after that travesty! And still are those who are arrogant or completely oblivious to the danger."
"So why are you here then?" His woman asked as she stood back up. "By the way your big media paints this country, they make it look like the Balkans, and us a Serbs! Given recent events that have transpired, I understand why-but this has been going on since the recent uprising started!"
"I'll say!" Mark exclaimed. His drink jumped as his hard fist met the bar top. "They portray us as murderers-ethnic cleansers-and all that horseshit! All we ever did was try to help our neighbors to their feet! And how do they thank us? They stab us in the back with our very own weapons and aid, all because of their fearless leader and that ass-wipe ideology! I say no more! That Drazen character had the right idea!"
"But the wrong way of doing it!" Robin finished for him, setting the glass down before the blonde. The keg can let out a hiss as she forced it open. The blonde's eyes opened a bit wider as that golden brew fell into the glass. Hypnotic, it was as always. "Here you go. Would you like to pay now, or would you like to keep a tab?"
"Better keep a tab." The blonde turned on her stool seat, swiveling towards him. "With the way things are going, this could take a while."
"What could take a while?" He sat straight up, putting a kink in his brow. "Who are you?"
"My name's Tara." She smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "And I come from the United States of America!"
"I know you…!" he frowned. "So this is who Mr. U knocked the shit out of -Yom Shishi-"
The girl blinked predictably, making like a dumb blonde.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh-I think you do, Missy!" he growled. The blonde tried to remove her forearm from the tabletop, but he wouldn't let her. "Don't insult my intelligence! I know who you are!"
"What the hell are you doing?" She struggled. "Let go of me!"
"SHIA!" Robin yelled.
"What do you want from me?" she whined. "Money? I'll give you as much as I have! Just let me go!"
He smirked smugly.
"One way or another, you're letting me go!"
"Just let her go, man!" Mark interjected rudely. "Did you have too much to drink?"
"Oh no, no, no, no…!" he smirked bitterly. "She's not going anywhere till the good Major says so-and if I know him, that won't be for a long-LONG-time!"
"I don't want to hurt you!" she huffed cutely. "So don't push it!"
"You don't get it, Tara!" he smiled wickedly. "The VSA might as well run this country! Here, we make the rules! And here, WE make the threats!"
"Oh really…?"
Just as he suspected, the man of the hour had finally showed up. He would have liked to take a closer look at the bar's top, notice how the grain peeked through the dark stain and how it flowed with the rest of the structure on any other occasion. Yet the North Korean wanted him to see it as he felt that signature strong grip seize him by the curly top, slamming his face down upon it harshly. Never before did he feel his nose press so firmly against his face.
"-OH…! –" He moaned. His grip waned, and the blonde ripped her arm out of his hand.
"Hello stranger!" The Asian exclaimed.
"Rob!" He said loudly. "I think this man would like a jack!"
He then noticed how the grain of the bar top flowed lengthwise, curling and swirling around tree knots from one end to another as his forehead smacked against it again.
"OW!"
"You jacked us around enough, Shia!" the man shouted. "Where's Drazen?"
"What the shit are you talking about?" he lied. Opportunity was a mean bitch sometimes, always finding a way to knock him sideways when he least expected it. "How the fuck should I know? I'm just a simple lieutenant!"
"And his pilot and his second banana!" The blonde chirped in giddily. Girlfriends are bunch of sadistic little imps, laughing, jumping for joy as their beau or a big, overcompensated tough guy knocked the shit out of another. Sigmund-Freud-or whatever the Germans said; maybe the blonde knows! "You're probably even his love-buddy-or something! So spill!"
He felt his early dinner leap from his stomach, crawling its way up his throat as those words morphed into a picture before his mind's eye. With Drazen… naked-behind him, giving him the real business deal. It was sickening, though it might explain why he's feeble all the time….
"-Blah…-" He gagged. "Don't make me sick!"
"Tara," Yune said, "can you go wait outside for a while? This is going to get messy!"
"Oh… fine!" she huffed. "Always hogging the action for yourself, you big lug! Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with these little!"
"Tara…!" he pressed.
"Outside." She affirmed. "Gotcha!"
The clacking of her blocky heels followed her out when she hopped of her stool, a little sharper than the bell's ringing when the door swatted it again. Yune took the opportunity smack his face into the bar top again-and chairs and stools screeched against the floor as all of his mates jumped to their feet at once. Yune's hand ripped away from his hair-or was ripped away involuntarily.
"Hey buddy!" Mark leapt to his defense. "Leave Bonnet alone! Sure, he's the biggest -shmuck- you'd ever seen, but he's still one of us!"
"Yeah!" the didgeridoo player seconded-Michael, he remembered finally. "You screw with one -shmuck, asshole, you screw with the whole goddamn avenue for that matter!"
"Stay out of this, guys!" Yune typically threw his warning out. Sure it was weak, but it was better than having that Daewoo press against his head… or especially his gut!
"You'd better make as he -cheerfully- requests!" He exclaimed. "On this, you can trust me!"
"Fuck you, man!" Mark replied so formally. "And shut the fuck up, Shia! Let us do the talking!"
"As you wish!" he would have shrugged if the Asian didn't smack his head down again and kept it there.
"People!" Robin held up her hands in peace; he could see his African queen perfectly on the bar top's incandescent sheen. "People, please! Why must you overreact? Can't we simply enjoy ourselves in peace and quiet?"
"SHUT UP, ROBIN!" Mark shouted back. He'd pay for that later! "Go relax outside or something! We've got to teach this yellow devil here about some good old Israeli hospitality!"
"Can we simply get along here?"
"NO!" came everybody else's reply.
"Best if you do as they ask, Robin." He nodded, wiping his nose against the countertop. "This is going to get messy!"
"Fine!" she huffed. "Just remember this! If Zanzibar is trashed, all of you are going to clean it up-everything-even the toilets! Am I understood?"
A collective sigh swept through the patrons, even Yune went with the flow.
"Yes, mother…!" everybody sighed.
"Good!" Her reflection nodded. "I will be outside then, enjoying the starlight. Have fun."
The heels of her mules made like that of the blonde's, clacking, following her out the door over that annoying bell. Mark couldn't help himself.
"Hear that, devil?" Mark said needlessly. "That's the bell tolling, and it's tolling for you!"
"Oh really?" Yune threw it back at him. "Is that a fact?"
"It is a fact!" Mark replied. "And after we're done with you, you're going to wish it hadn't."
"Really?" Yune said. "We'll see about that!"
-
Tara blinked as she walked out of the bar, as though she had seen a fleeting apparition. But it wasn't an apparition at all; it didn't vanish after the fourth and fifth bat of her eyes. It was actually there, standing firmly on its four, rubber feet just across the street, so sleek and clean that it bounced the streetlamp's glow right back. She was surprised she hadn't seen it before she had her beer.
"Sadie!" she grinned. Her hurried stride was predictably awkward as she ran for it.
The vehicle didn't answer back; it stood before her silently, staring back at her hotly with that fiery red-and-yellow paint job. She wasn't sure if it was dead, or it was simply switched off. Maybe it was playing possum, though it really wasn't the time. She decided to chance it, letting her fingers curl underneath the door handle.
The driver's door popped open effortlessly. With a huff, she pushed herself into the driver's seat. Robin's brother sure did a great job on restoration, as though Sadie hadn't rolled through a battlefield ever, and in record time! It would have taken days! Everything had been cleaned, spit-shined to perfection while the passenger seat had been replaced, and Sadie was the proud owner of a brand new tailgate, amongst other things.
"Sadie…?" she asked, tapping the display gently with her knuckle. "Sadie, is this really you? Are you alive in there somewhere? Come on now, answer!"
"She is alive, friend!"
Tara nearly jumped out of her skin, her mouth letting out a yip like a frightened poodle. Sadie rocked on her frame a bit while she hopped for a split-second.
"Easy-easy, friend!" Robin said coolly. "You are safe. I am not here to rob you blind."
"Oh… Robin!" She sighed calmly. Robin stood a couple feet away from the driver's side, her hands up halfway before she slowly let them drop to her sides. "You shouldn't scare me like that. Thank God I wasn't armed tonight, or we wouldn't be talking."
"I understand." Robin was backlit partially. The Ethiopian would have been like the shadows in the street if it weren't for that white, button-down top. "Given the current climate, I would not be surprised if you pulled a gun on me without much thought. But thankfully you did not."
"I know." She nodded. Her fingers couldn't idle any longer, wrapping firmly around the steering wheel. Even her feet took up their proper placement on the floor, her pump resting rather heavily on the accelerator though she had no place to go... though that could change in a split second considering.
"I see that you are getting comfortable, Tara." Robin noted sharply.
"Really?" she smirked weakly. "How could you guess?"
"Well, for one, you are!"
"Don't answer that, Robin." She interjected. "Rhetorical question. But is your brother some kind of genie or something? Sadie looks perfect!"
"That is my brother for you." Robin's heels clicked on the pavement as she moved herself around the front bumper. The passenger side clunked open, dipping severely briefly as the dark girl yanked herself inside. Sadie rocked softly as the door closed. "Always outdoing himself."
"But how?" she blinked. "She was practically a wreck this morning!"
"Appearances have always this deceiving look." Robin replied. "This vehicle was not as trashed as we originally thought. She needed a good cleaning, some bolts and nuts tightened, and a few things welded back together while some needed to be replaced altogether. Thankfully, he had just the parts laying around."
"I know!" She grinned. "It's a miracle!"
"Not commonly of what you think as a miracle, I believe." The woman shrugged. "But it is still one, whether you believe it or not."
"I believe;" she nodded quickly, "I believe! How does she run?"
"Like a dream, he said." A jingle rang through the silent street while Robin fished for the keys. "I am not sure myself. I have not driven it since I had brought it in! You tell me, Tara."
The keys rang out like a Christmas bell, catching nothing but a sliver of the streetlamp's dim glow as they arced through the air. It was sheer luck her hand managed to pluck them firmly out of the darkness. The proper key ratcheted itself inside the ignition smoothly-and flawlessly Sadie's heart roared to life, pumping its share of petroleum a little too quickly before she eased her foot off.
"Great!" the center console pushed into her awkwardly, her arms taking the lead as she drew that wonderful person into a friendly embrace! "This is great! She runs perfectly! Oh-how can we ever thank you?"
"Whoa…!" Robin giggled giddily. "Do not worry, Tara! I did this out of love and friendship!"
"Oh, come on!" she smiled thankfully. "There's got to be something I can do! How much did the bill come to?"
"You do not have to concern yourself with that, Tara." The dark girl replied. "Everything is well and good. What ever my brother Joshua cannot have in cash, he will have in fine liquor."
"What?" she blinked.
"Best that you do not concern yourself with the details, my friend." Robin pulled herself away, leaning comfortably back in the passenger chair. She too pulled herself back upright; the center console was really rubbing her the wrong way. "Be at peace knowing that that all is taken care of!"
A loud, piercing screech shattered the silence of the night, stabbing out from the speakers around. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as it assaulted her eardrums. A blaring crackle erupted through the speakers, garbling the screeching severely, so much so that the nasty sound actually morphed and shaped itself into comprehensible syllables…!
"Hun…. Hunk-a-hunk-A-BURN-BURN-BURN-BURN-BURN-BURN-BURN-BURN!"
Well-random comprehensible syllables with a -flaming- fixation!
"BURN-Thank you very much…!" it came out like the King of RR, before it crashed completely into silence.
She gave up.
"Well, almost all is taken care of!" Robin quickly recanted.
"What the hell was that?" she fingered her ear. "God!"
"That is what I was telling you about earlier." Robin explained. "Sadie might as well be the Jeep you have found in the show room. Joshua must have cut some wires that he wasn't supposed to touch, and all he could get was a horrible Elvis impersonation."
"Well isn't this dandy?" she sighed. "Oh well-it's better than nothing, I guess."
"Now that is the way to look at it, Tara." Robin applauded. "Sadie could always have been towed for the scrap pile, but she wasn't. So suck it up and take it in stride."
"Right." She nodded. Sadie's heart went into a temporary arrest by a backwards flick of the wrist. "Though I really don't want to hear her arrangement of Jailhouse Rock."
"I understand." The dark girl nodded. "Come. Let us go back inside before he catch our death of cold."
"Okay." She agreed. "Maybe the boys settled the dispute like grown-ups!"
Glass shattered beside her like she had never heard it before, so loud that she could have sworn that even Sadie quaked on her sturdy frame. Robin yelped in surprise. It was as if someone had hundreds of chimes twinkle simultaneously in a fleeting moment. Hundreds-maybe even thousands of shards shattering from a single pane in a huge, sharp explosion only to shatter again as they smashed into the ground.
A huge man-a dark giant of a man laid flat on the ground supine, sprawling on a nasty sheet of twinkling shards. He was alive. A bit of pooling darkness flowed over the sharp pieces slowly, typically pooling around the dark giant around his body. His large, broad back made like his chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing.
Yune Bin-Mok stood behind the shattered window, the proud victor and envy of drunken-bar-room-brawl-boxers the world over, standing weakly on his own two feet. His opponents were scattered every which way imaginable. The punk named Mark had been thrown over the bar top, hanging on it by the belly, his chest inching him further over the edge but his legs kept him at a stand still. That didgeridoo player kept his face on the table involuntarily, slurping his spilled brew through his lips while it mingled with his own crimson mixer. That shofar player was slumped against the front door like a bum on a city bus, sitting quietly, dare not moving falsely lest her man pounce on him like a tiger.
In fact, she wasn't sure that man was moving at all.
The man of the hour still kept his rump against the seat of his stool; his arms limp, swaying lifelessly as Yune leaned on him for support.
"Oh good Lord!" Robin was frantic. Sadie bounced on her frame as the dark girl leaped from the vehicle. Her mules clomped hollowly on the street, the heels of her feet slapping against the insoles as she hurriedly made her way over to the giant. "Joshua! JOSHUA!"
"Or maybe not…." she noted dryly to herself.