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I was much more familiar than they could possibly be with the maze of hallways and doors that lay beyond the main room ofBottoms Up. It was a smart design, laid out that way for thePredatorsto use as a quick getaway if they ever found themselves in need of one.
Here I was, in need.
Surely my former companion seedlings had done some recon, but I had to take the chance that maybe they hadn’t had time to do enough. They were on me before I even got to the back, but I was quick—it only took a few doorways before I’d lost them in the maze.
But I knew that was only the first step.
Briefly, it crossed my mind to engage some of thePredatorsfor help, but I couldn’t drag them into this, not with trained killers. I was on my own, the same as it had kinda always been.
At least when I was being smart.
I had to assume my apartment was burnt, even though I didn’t have any hints as to what had put me on their radar. I had a room atTheDrakeI could use to lay low for the night, but that was deep in the middle of the action—Bottoms Upwas on the outskirts.
I still had to actually get there.
I made my way to a side entrance ofBottomsthat I knew was camouflaged on the outside to blend in with the other bricks. I eased it open slowly, but there was only one direction I could check for danger on the other side.
I had to take a chance.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself to get ready to run, hoping I could make it either to my bike, or someone else’s. If I had to borrow one, I’d make sure it was returned to the owner.
I was two steps out the door before they were on me.
I easily dodged one attempt to grab me, and then another, sacrificing my line of sight against the third. He caught me with a jab I ate like it was nothing, then sent one right back.
If these were regular people, I could have handled it with no problem.
But they weren’t.
We had the same training, the same discipline, and I was severely outnumbered. I couldn’t have expected it to go much differently than it did.
There wasn’t any type of training that would have made me impervious to the electric current from a taser as it coursed through me, snatching away my ability to move or fight back. I dropped to the ground, stripped of control over my limbs.
I knew the needle was coming before I felt the jab, and there was nothing I could do to combat it. The last face I saw was the woman from the bar, gazing sympathetically at me as whatever was in the syringe started its quick course through my blood.
“I know it sucks,” she said, “but it’s the only way to ensure no more fighting between us. Nobody gets hurt this way.”
I understood that.
I did.
But I was still on the ground, injected with foreign substance without my consent, all in service of conversation I didn’t even want to have.
So I was sure she didn’t take it personal when I used the last of my faculties to look her right in the eyes, and tell her one more time…
“Fuck you.”
