A weapons heist was not a particularly romantic option for a first date — but I'd never been so excited for a night out. Hair and makeup done to perfection, I knocked on Mister Jay's door.

"What's the plan, boss?" I said when he let me in. "Scale the walls? Blow open a window? Pick a lock?"

He passed me a pizza box. "Knock on the front door."

I blinked.

He pulled on his leather jacket. "At this time of night, there will still be a couple of employees working late. They let us in, we mow them down, and we go on our merry way."

The box was warm, and a mouth-watering pizza smell wafted at me.

"Did you just order this?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you use an empty box?"

"You gotta play the part, baby! Besides, now we have a snack if we get hungry."

He reached deep into his coat closet and pulled out a silver revolver. I sucked in a breath. Jay saw my expression, grinned, and slid the weapon inside his jacket without a word. I wondered if he knew where to go once we were inside ACE. I wondered if there was more to the plan than he was telling me. I wondered how many guns he planned to steal. I didn't ask any of this.

Jay slung his arm over my shoulder and we left. We strode down the dark streets, his arm wrapped firmly around me, the revolver bumping my ribs with each step.

We stopped beside the ACE Research Facility sign. A fence stretched into the darkness on either side, barbed wire coiled at the top. A stone path led to the front door.

Jay placed a hand under my chin. "I'll be right beside you, baby, just out of sight."

I nodded. He kissed my forehead, sending a flutter to my toes.

Pizza box resting on my palm, I stepped up to the door and knocked. Though my heart thrummed, I felt no more nervous than if we'd been pulling a prank.

A scruffy man in jeans and a faded black tee opened.

"Delivery!" I sang.

For effect, I jutted my hip like a sassy waitress at a fifties diner.

The guy stared at me, then said over his shoulder, "Frank, did you order—?"

I kicked him in the groin. He bent double and I slammed my elbow on his head. He sprawled flat, unconscious.

I picked up the fallen pizza box as Jay stepped up behind me.

"Oh, Harley. You know how to take a man's breath away."

He bent and took the guy's keycard.

"Hey!" someone shouted, who must have been this Frank guy.

Jay shot him.

The BANG! echoed off the walls and sucked the breath from my lungs. A dark splotch bloomed across his victim's white polo shirt. The man's eyes widened. He clutched his chest. His knees buckled.

My heart jumped into action, pounding against my ribs. This was happening. No messing around. I didn't know whether to be scared or exhilarated.

My body chose an entirely different reaction. That guy's death was a moment Jay and I shared — a secret, a bond, intensely personal. Jay had chosen me to be the person he trusted enough to murder with. No deeper connection could exist between two people. We would always have it. He was mine now, and I was his.

My ears rang from the gunshot. Anyone on the floor would have heard — and maybe the floor above.

We waited, but no one came running.

"Leave that here," said Jay, pointing at the pizza.

I obeyed.

Jay sauntered into the brightly lit atrium, revolver up by his ear, shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. I followed. I sensed his heightened energy like an electric current flowing between us.

He stopped at the directory in the centre of the atrium and studied it quietly. I checked over my shoulder, wishing I had a revolver too.

"There," said Jay abruptly, making me jump.

He used the revolver to point to the north wing on the map. There, on the third floor, were the words Chemical Firearms.

"Chemical?" I said. "What does that mean?"

He waved his arms. "It's experimental science, Harley."

I followed him to the north elevator at a jog, glancing around.

"What do you do with a dead chemist?" he said, pushing the up button.

I shrugged.

"You barium."

I giggled. He gave me a sidelong smile.

"First floor, going up," said the elevator serenely.

We stepped inside. My stomach swooped as we rose.

"Third floor," said the elevator.

We exited to an empty hallway. Jay turned right and walked purposefully.

The door was, of course, locked. Jay flashed the keycard. The box blinked red. Jay tried again. Red.

"Blast," I said.

"My thoughts exactly."

Jay aimed his gun at the handle. I plugged my ears.

The bullet ricocheted with a CLINK! He fired several more times in the same place. The handle snapped and an alarm started wailing, filling the hallway.

Jay kicked the door open. "Pick your weapons and let's blow outta—"

His eyes widened.

Assault rifles, sniper rifles, and handguns littered worktables and hung on the walls. The ones on the tables were in varying degrees of completion. The ones on the walls looked like functioning prototypes.

Jay swept along the left wall, brushing his fingers across each weapon.

I checked out the pistols on the right wall. I plucked a sleek grey one from its rack. It was cool beneath my skin, and lighter than expected. The grip fit my hand like it had been custom made for me.

I glanced around for a target. Nothing suited, so I aimed for a blank space of wall at the back of the room.

I used two hands, expecting a strong recoil. I squeezed the trigger.

In the space of a second, at least thirty bullets left the barrel. It happened smoothly, unnoticeable in my hands. I didn't hear it beneath the screaming alarm.

I gaped at the wall, a sheet of Swiss cheese, and then at the gun in my hands. How had that many bullets come out of something so small?

Jay stepped over to me. He didn't take the pistol, but raised my wrist gently, examining the weapon and my hand like they were a single entity.

He pointed to the stock, which had ACE engraved in block letters. He leaned in so I could hear him over the alarm.

"There are your chemicals. See the liquid? Must be a compression chamber. It converts the solution to bullets."

I nodded, though I was too distracted by his breath tickling my cheek to register what he said.

He turned back to the wall of rifles. "As for me: I'm feeling warm fuzzies for this sniper—"

"Hands off," said a woman's voice.

We whirled. A twenty-something girl stood in the doorway, trembling hands closed over a pistol.

"The police will be here any second," she said over the screaming alarm. "If you come quietly, you won't be charged for stealing."

No, this chick was not about to ruin our date night.

I stepped closer, my new pistol raised. "You know, puss, you're missing a good party downstairs. We brought pizza."

"I saw."

"Then you know we'll be charged for a lot more than stealing."

"I can't let you take these," she said, quavering.

Her eyes flicked to the wall beside Jay — a tiny, seemingly insignificant act that betrayed everything.

Jay reached out, hovering over a sniper rifle. The girl kept her aim steady. Jay moved his hand to the assault rifle next to it. The girl tensed, her fear palpable.

Jay clicked his tongue. "I hope you don't play poker."

He plucked the weapon off the rack.

"Stop!" the girl screamed.

At once, Jay aimed the rifle at the girl, and she aimed her pistol at the wall beside him.

Several things exploded. Jay and I were launched into the air. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a car-sized hole in the floor where Jay's rifle had fired. The tile, concrete, and framing had vaporized. Then my back collided with a table, and I crumpled to the floor.

I gasped, writhing, certain I'd bruised my spine.

Then I heard the worst sound ever to meet my ears: Jay screaming in fear.

I leapt to my feet, forgetting my pain.

"Jay!"

I couldn't see him. I cast around before seeing fingers clinging to the edge of the hole in the floor.

I lunged for him, landing on my stomach. I closed my fingers around his wrists.

"I've got you, puddin'."

His legs swung desperately. His green eyes locked onto mine, wide with fear.

Far below, a room of chemicals sprawled. Pool-sized vats of liquid bubbled, fluorescent yellow, releasing wisps of pale smoke. One was directly below Jay. Whatever it was, I couldn't let him fall into it.

The girl lay beside it. She'd missed the vat and landed on the concrete. Blood pooled around her body. Several weapons had fallen with her.

I glanced back, seeking something to hook my legs around.

"Jay, I can't ..." I choked back a sob.

His fingers slipped from the edge. I shrieked.

He clamped around my wrists. "Baby, don't let me fall."

The fear in his voice squeezed my heart. I shook my head, tears spilling from my eyes. I would never.

Then we were both slipping, his weight pulling me over the edge.

I slid faster, accelerating. I stopped holding back my sobs.

Let go, said a voice in the back of my mind. You can save yourself if you let him go.

But Jay's fingers were still around my wrists. Even if I wanted to let go — to betray the man who'd made me feel so alive — I wouldn't be able to. We were together, now. Either we both died, or we survived whatever was in that vat.

And then we were falling. I kept my eyes open, wanting Jay's to be the last thing I saw.

️*

This is a fanfiction and the characters are not my own. If you like my writing, please check out my published stories at tianawarner . com :)