"Absolute victory," I cried out for the umpteenth time since I lost Walter. I was now heading toward what looked like a diner, the pipe held tight in my right hand. I walked inside and was greeted by the barrel of a 9mm.

"Freeze," the officer wielding the gun commanded.

"Screw that," I said, sidestepping the weapon and making a one-handed swing with the pipe. The blow connected with her head, smashing her skull with a sickening crunch and sending her now limp for flying sideways across the room.

"Why'd you do that," another person shouted at me from my left. In the space of a second, the diner's second occupant, a man wearing a dark brown coat had swept past me and was at the officer's side.

"She's dead," he said. He stood up and turned to me. He was now holding the gun.

"Um, hang on a second. Author, I think we need a reset here."

"Why? It's your mess. You fix it."

"Can't. I'm not the god here."

"Tch... Fine. Don't rely on that too much."

"Alright, now what were you saying," I asked the man. The female officer had just sat up, apparently unharmed.

"It's a miracle," he said in awe.

"Not really."

"What just happened," she asked, dazed.

"You were hit by a bus," I said as I bonked her on the head again.

"Why'd you do that," the man asked again.

"Dunno."

There was a tapping on the window behind me. At first it was light, then grew gradually into a steady pounding. The brown-coated man had a puzzled look as he stood up.

"Give me that gun," I told him calmly.

"Why," he asked.

"That's a blond guy wearing a blood-stained coat and wearing an insane I'm-about-to-rape-and-murder-you smile, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Gimme the gun."

"You're not gonna shoot me, are you."

"No. Now hand it over."

He slipped me the weapon. I mentally counted to three and swung around. I let my finger go wild on the trigger, not stopping until the gun's clip was empty. I lowered it and was unsurprised to see that Walter wasn't even fazed by the sudden attack.

"Did any of them hit," I asked him.

"Yep," he said cheerfully. He opened his coat to show that every round had indeed hit him.

"While I'm thinking of it," the brown-coated man chimed in, "Has either of you seen a little girl? Dark hair... just turned seven?"

"Harry," I asked him.

"Yes, that's my name," he said.

"No," Walter and I said in unison.

Both Walter and I looked back at each other, each trying to read what the other was about to do. My bullet volley had busted a rather large hole in the diner's front window. I looked around for something I could use on him.

"I could use a you-know what right now."

"No. This story is rated T and I'm not about to..."

"Not that! The other thing."

"Oh. Well, if that's the case... it's in the Wood-side apartments."

"Thank you so much!"

"Who are you talking to," Walter asked.

"Your mom," I said without thinking. His grin faded and he now had a pronounced murderous look in his eye.

"Meep," I shouted and crashed back out the door. I tore down the street. One thing was obvious, I should not have said that.

"Come back! It's only gonna hurt for a few seconds! You won't even know what hit you," Walter shouted from somewhere behind me. In my rush to get away, I hadn't realized I'd grabbed onto Harry and was now dragging him along with me. He was confused but did nothing to try and break my grip on his wrist.

"What's going on," he asked.

"As soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know," I said.

Walter was shooting at us now. We ducked down an alley and watched as he ran by, shooting wildly. After a few silent minutes, I wheezed, "I think we lost him."

"I doubt it," a playful voice said from behind me.

I swung hard with the pipe and caught Walter in the side of his head. It was smashed into the wall of a building to our right and he fell to the ground, limp.

"You're a little too good at that," Harry mused.

"Foreshadowing," I shot back.

"What?"

"Exactly. Let's go before he gets back up."