o()o

Authors Note: All foreign words in the first two scenes are Spanish, and they're all vulgar. I don't even want to post their meanings, they're so vulgar.
Nifty Fact for the Day: Deine mutter hat haarige arschbacken is German for 'your mother has hairy arse-cheeks.' I am so using that in real life someday.

o(14)o

Gabrielle needed a fix.

She could tell by the way her eyes were beginning to tear up and anxious feeling that was swelling in the pit of her stomach.

Rubbing her hands over her arms, trying to stop the tickling sensation that was spreading over her skin, she used her hip to nudge the cleaning cart toward the next dingy motel room.

If she could just last long enough to finish up these rooms, she could get out of here, go see her dealer and everything would be okay. She just needed a little something to get her through the rest of the day.

Mechanically stripping the bed, Gabrielle let her mind wander while her body went through the motions. She was hoping that the work would distract her from her system's rebellion against the lack of drugs, but all she could think about was the sting of the needle and the burn of Absolution in her veins.

"It's the best fucking thing since peanut butter." Carlos had said with a knowing smile. "Even gives heroin a run for its money."

Gabrielle had been skeptical. After all, what could be better than heroin? But in the end, that smug chupaverga had been right. The drug hit twice as hard and lasted twice as long as heroin could ever hope to. It had been worth every second she had spent on her knees earning it.

Now almost a month and a half later, heroin was the last thing on her mind. The only thing she wanted was Absolution.

Haphazardly tucking in the fresh sheets, she hoped that she'd have enough actual money from tips to buy this fix. Her body still ached from what Carlos had made her do to earn the last one.

It didn't matter, though; she knew she'd to whatever he told her to, as long as she could tuck that little plastic bag in her pocket when she left.

Stopping to rub her arms again, the slight tickling starting to turn into an itchy, crawly feeling, Gabrielle tilted her head back and muttered a curse to the ceiling. Just a couple more rooms and she could get the hell out of here.

Just a little something to get her through the rest of the day.

The thought bounced around in her head with vengeful force, creating ripples within her like a rock thrown into still waters. Just a little something, just a little bit because life was so hard without it. Just a little fix to make the crawling anxious feeling go away, to give her a little peace, just a little fix to make her feel normal.

Stopping in front of the last room, Gabrielle knocked on the door, cringing at the noise. "Housekeeping!" She called.

There was no answer, but there never was. She'd only seen the guys that were staying in the room a couple of times, they were cute enough, she supposed. Her sex drive had long ago left her; her only method of judging a guy now was by whether or not he looked like he would give her a hit.

But they were cute enough nevertheless; she had shared a cigarette with them once and was pleasantly surprised at how nice they'd been to her. Most people treated Gabrielle with a sort of holier-than-thou contempt, if they weren't to busy pretending she was invisible altogether. But these guys had chatted with her, laughing and joking, their lilting accents making her smile.

She found out that they were brothers, twins actually, and no, they didn't have any drugs on them, they didn't do that shit, but she could have another cigarette if she wanted.

The only odd thing was the way they both had stilled after she asked the lighter-haired one about his leg. A lightning fast glance had been exchanged between the two brothers before he had shrugged and said he had gotten hurt at work.

The darker haired man had mumbled something under his breath about getting a job where being shot wasn't a repercussion, earning a sharp look from his brother.

Gabrielle knew that she wasn't supposed to have heard the darker man's comment, but if there was one thing about her that wasn't shot to hell, it was her hearing. She'd let the comment slide, but hadn't forgotten it.

Now, standing outside of their room, ignoring the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, she swiped her master keycard and stepped inside. The crawling feeling was getting worse, creeping up the back of her neck, and this time she scratched at it with her nails. Maybe these guys had some money stashed somewhere.

She would only take a little bit, just what she needed for a hit. They'd never miss it and she just needed a little something to get her through the day.

The room was messy, but she had seen worse. Taking a quick glance around the room, she took stock of everything there. Beer cans and cigarette packages littered the rickety table, the beds were unmade. Take-out containers and pizza boxes spilled out of the garbage and onto the floor. Between the beds, shoved partly under the grungy comforters were two black duffel bags.

Bingo. Gabrielle thought, stooping to tug one out from its hiding place. Unzipping the bag, she looked at the contents inside and gasped out a curse. These malparidos had a lot more than money stashed away.

Quickly she closed the bag and shoved it back under the bed, but not before stealing two fifty-dollar bills from a bundle. They'd never miss it, she told herself again, leaving the room, and if they did, they'd never know it was her.

Besides, it was just a little money, and it was for a good cause. She just needed a little something to get her through the rest of the day.

o()o

The apartment complex was a dump, but Gabrielle didn't care. She ignored the screaming children in the parking lot and the stench of urine in the hallways. She ignored the people that were crouched on the floor watching her with wary eyes. None of that mattered; only one thing mattered.

Absolution.

Reaching Carlos's apartment, she knocked on the scarred door, scratching her already reddened arms. The door opened a crack and Carlos's thin, greasy face peered out at her.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped.

"Fuck you, Carlos," she replied in Spanish, "you know what I want."

The door shut in her face and there was the sound of the security chain being opened. When it opened again, Carlos was smirking at her, his eyes hard and glittering.

"Wait here." He said as she stepped inside. "I got more important things than some druggie chocha to do right now."

"But Carlos," Gabrielle could hear the whine in her voice, and she hated it, but there was no making it go away. Her complaints earned her a vicious backhand across the face.

"Shut your fucking mouth you filthy whore!" Carlos yelled also in their native Spanish, "I'll fucking get to you when I'm fucking good and ready."

Tears welling in her eyes, Gabrielle pressed a hand to her stinging cheek and nodded, keeping quiet.

"Fucking chocha." He muttered walking away from her.

Plopping down on a battered sofa, Gabrielle scratched the back of her shoulders and looked around the apartment. Like the complex, it was a shit-hole, filthy and neglected. Carlos's voice floated back from the other room, and Gabrielle cocked her head listening.

"No we didn't find them. We kicked down every fucking door in that place and didn't find anything but old geezers." He said, still speaking Spanish.

"For God's sake man, you're in my country now, so speak goddamned English." a different voice replied, "And what's this I hear about a girl?"

A pause. "There was this fucking bitch at the desk, she looked me right in the face and told me they weren't there." Carlos said, this time in English. "I caught up with the pendeja in the parking lot and taught her a lesson about lying to her betters."

There was the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh and Carlos yelped, "What the fuck was that for?"

"You worthless piece of shit! Don't you ever do something like that again! I sent your stupid ass to find the guys that took out the shipment, not to assault the goddamned secretaries."

"Come on, man," Carlos whined. "Do you know how many people get shot in this city in a day? How the fuck am I supposed to find two fuckin' vigilantes that nobody's ever fuckin seen? They had on masks and carried guns and that's all we know. It's fucking impossible."

"You were looking for someone that had been shot, definitely in the leg and probably once in the chest. It wasn't a difficult thing and yet, somehow, you managed to fuck it up."

Gabrielle frowned as she listened; something seemed familiar about this. Vigilantes . . . masks and guns . . . a gunshot wound in the leg . . . holy fucking shit.

She was off the tattered couch and in the next room before she could even complete the thought.

"What the fuck do you want, chocha?" Carlos said irritably.

"I know who you're talking about." She said, grinning. "I know where they are."

The other man grabbed her arm, his thick fingers digging painfully into the already sore flesh there. "You'd better tell us everything that you know, girl." He said dangerously.

"I will! I will." Gabrielle twisted in the man's grip and turned to look at Carlos, smiling nastily at him. "But I want something in return."

o()o

Danae shifted the grocery bag on her hip and smiled as she walked toward the motel. She had the day off and had promised the guys a meal that didn't come in a cardboard box.

She was early, she knew, but she was hoping she could entice the guys back to her place with the promise of cold beer and a good movie. She only had one day off this week and spending it alone at her place seemed like such a waste.

So, she had bought two twelve-packs of Guinness along with her groceries, and rented the newest action flick. She was sure that it wouldn't take much more than that to convince them.

Even with the knowledge of danger ever-present in the back of their minds, the three of them had fallen, once again, into a comfortable routine.

Through some unspoken agreement, she and Murphy hadn't mentioned their kiss since the morning it had happened. Danae knew it was for the best, she wasn't ready and apparently neither was he, but it still stung when she thought about it.

She shouldn't be complaining; she had two of the best friends she'd ever had in her life, and that should have been more than enough.

She shouldn't be distracted at work, lost in the memory of Murphy's mouth over hers as he ran his fingers over her face. She shouldn't be lying awake at night wishing he were there.

Most of all, she shouldn't be falling for a man whose sole purpose in life was executing criminals. Getting involved with something like that would cause nothing but heartache, and she didn't want that.

Shaking her head to dispel the thoughts, she took a deep breath and blew it out.

At least, she thought with a smile, Connor had said he would teach her to speak German.

He'd already taught her a couple of phrases, chuckling at her careful repetition of the words. They had gone over it again and again until he was satisfied with her pronunciation and accent.

"Good." He'd said, finally, and she had grinned at him.

"Now will you tell me what they mean?"

He had leaned over and whispered the translation in her ear, laughing at her mortified yelp.

"Connor! I can't believe you just taught me that! I'll never need to know that, I don't even think it's physically possible!"

But Connor had just laughed all the harder, pressing a hand into his side as Danae turned a deeper shade of red.

When Murphy had come back in from his smoke, he had found Connor wiping mirthful tears from his eyes, still chuckling, and Danae scowling good-naturedly, blushing to the roots of her hair.

"What's this?" he'd asked eyeing the both of them, sending Connor into a new fit of hilarity.

"I'm teachin' Danae here ta speak German."

"Yeah, right, real handy stuff you're teaching me." She had said indignantly and Murphy had grinned at her.

"Did he teach ye Deine mutter hat haarige arschbacken yet?" he asked and Connor had choked on a laugh, his eyes wide.

"Ye can't fuckin' teach her that! Have some respect, man."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what does that mean?"

Murphy's answer had provoked yet another affronted cry.

Now, rounding the corner, Danae stopped dead at the sight of the motel, her smile fading as a whisper of disquiet coursed through her.

Something was wrong.

She didn't know how she knew. Nothing had changed since her last visit, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but something wasn't right. It was a nice day out, yet suddenly the air seemed stifling and heavy. Heart jackhammering in her chest and fear creating a writhing pit in her belly, she staggered a single step backwards.

The grocery bag fell to the ground, unnoticed, spilling its contents across the pavement and Danae barely had time to shield her eyes before the building exploded.

o()o