ToniJ.Net

“Alright! Calling this meeting to order. Our agenda: decide what to do next. We have two free hours to fill. Any suggestions?”

“Grab a snack.”

“We ate an hour ago. Be serious. We need time for exercise.”

“How about getting some work done?”

“Go for a walk outside.”

“Isn’t it February? No, we should watch a movie and stay warm.”

“Sex!”

“Who said that?”

“Who do you think?”

“Somebody remind that bag of hormones what week it is. Good ideas so far, let’s keep going.”

“Sit and contemplate our place in the universe.”

“Read a book.”

“Painting is fun; let’s do that.”

“We should really clean up around here.”

“Write out plans to do important things later.”

“Are we sure snacking is out of the question? Or maybe we think about what dinner will be. Pizza is awesome.”

“Pizza!”

“Yes!”

“No. Cut that out. Dinner decisions will be discussed in the evening meeting.”

“There are a few video games we could play.”

“Or board games.”

“I think–”

“Red alert! Girl staring in this direction. Designated as ‘friend.’ Resume standard functions. Prep for conversation!”

- – -

“You alright, there?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah… just thinking.”

- – -

“Friend concern levels appear to be lowering. We need a consensus, fast.”

“Internet?”

“…yeah, okay, seconded. All in favor?”

“Aye.”

- – -

“Hey, what was that link off of Reddit?”

The ice beasts came out of nowhere.

Muscular, humanoid, blue, and entirely frozen, they swarmed the streets with a single purpose: to wipe us out.

The first humans fell before we knew what was happening. A beast would touch you and your body instantly froze with a harrowing crackle. People were flash frozen and shattered before our eyes. A billion went down in the first week alone.

At first, we tried shooting them. The ice beasts didn’t seem to care about the holes and lost limbs. Grenades did little better. The army used flame throwers. If you could melt the whole creature down, it didn’t come back. Once folks heard that, there were a lot of boiling pots of water, welding torches, and flaming aerosol cans. It worked for a while, but the beasts were fast. So many people died trying to keep the monsters at bay. All the Molotov cocktails in the world can’t stop an avalanche.

Not everyone fought. After seeing our friends get mobbed and iced, most of us ran for the equator. They still came for us, but they were slower here. The sun was on our side.

While we hid, we discovered the key to our survival. A man in a thick coat was more often grabbed by his exposed head than his more easily reached torso. A child hiding in a dumpster was easily overlooked. They saw only our heat.

Finally, we had our advantage.

We organized. We hid our body heat. We stalked the invaders as they hunted us. One especially warm individual was picked to be bait and led two or three of the beasts into our trap. Once they had reached a narrow alley, the bait man jumped away and the fires were lit. Their screeches were like icicles stabbing our ears. When the fires died out, there was nothing left but a collection of blue puddles.

Word spread of our success. More and more, humanity fought and won. One day, the ice beasts disappeared as suddenly as they had come.

For days and years, we continued to light the fires. A testament to our victory and a warning to any who would do us harm.

Sullivan rounded an old brick building, desperate to catch her breath. After a short second, she inched to the corner and snuck a peek. The midday crowd on the street barely noticed her exit. The man in the green shirt, however, was still running in her direction. The gun he was carrying was only barely concealed from those around him.

Who the hell was this guy? She’d been doing some routine surveillance when suddenly Greenshirt jumped her. She’d avoided getting immediately shot, but the ensuing fight could have gone better. He was deceptively quick, especially for his size. The man exploded into a violent flurry of fists. Sullivan blocked and dodged as best she could, but couldn’t get a hit in. Crashing through the second story window into the alley dislocated her arm, but at least she’d survive a little longer.

That was fifteen minutes ago and that guy was still on her tail. He didn’t ask any questions. He was in for the kill. This had to be the work of whoever had been trying to kill her recently. This was bad. She’d only barely survived that last encounter. Her ribs still hadn’t fully healed and the pins in her leg were looking to be a permanent accessory. Fixing her arm would have to wait. She needed a place to hide. She hid behind a dumpster as the green shirted man jogged past. A list of friendly areas flashed through Sullivan’s mind. Everything she knew of was too far to walk with her injuries and someone trying to finish her off.

Wait. Wasn’t there an old safe house a few blocks from here?

She slipped out the back of the alley, clutching her useless arm close to her frame. There was no sign of her attacker, but she knew all too well that he could turn up at any moment. She raced down the busy streets toward the building that might keep her alive. At least, long enough to figure this out and patch herself up.

The safe house was in a dilapidated apartment. Crumbling bricks and rotting wood made it a place for most to avoid, but perfect for someone on the run. If a person approached, they were more than likely coming for you. She checked the street one last time for Greenshirt and stepped inside. On the fourth floor, at the end of the hall, was the apartment. She’d used it as a base of operations nearly seven years ago. Very little had changed, except a growing blanket of dust.

After checking the street once more through the blinds, she could finally get that arm back in place. She took a deep breath. Playing medic was always her least favorite part. If a problem couldn’t be fixed with a word or a gun, she didn’t have any business there.

She sat on the cold tile floor and locked her fingers around her left knee. She clenched her teeth like a vice as she waited for the telltale pop. There! A rush of pain swept over her body. She tested a few slow movements to make sure the mechanics would work if she was threatened before it healed. She stood up to check the freezer for an ice pack. A package of blue-tinted meat greeted her. She coughed through the cloud of rotten food smell. No power, then. Was this place still even on the company’s radar?

Sullivan pulled out her phone. She needed backup. A helicopter would be even better. But for any of that to happen, somebody had to pick up the damned call. On the sixth ring, there was a burst of static and a young male voice.

“Agent identification.”

“This is Sullivan. I’m in need of immediate assistance.”

“Agent Sullivan. What’s the situation? Where are you?”

Something felt off, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“During Project Sparrow, I was attacked by a large male. I’ll fill in the details to whoever’s available to help. I’d take an extraction, if you can.”

“What’s your location? We’ll have someone there within the hour.”

Didn’t they know? The voice had sounded familiar at first, but the kid who usually picked up her distress calls was a lot less formal than this.

“Who is this?”

“Pardon? Agent Sullivan, I need your location.”

The amount of static, the long time before they picked up, this had the hallmarks of a trap. Whoever was after her had somehow gotten to her phone. All they needed was enough time or information in order to come finish the job. She couldn’t let that happen.

Sullivan immediately ended the call. She placed it on the wooden table while she considered her options. The phone vibrated. Those posing as the agency were calling back. She grabbed the phone and threw it to the floor. A few stomps from her boot exposed the electronics within. No bug? They must have done it through software. Well, any signal her phone was sending would be dead now. She scooped up the broken pieces and dropped them in the waste bucket.

Only time would tell if she’d been on the phone long enough for them to discover where she was. Or maybe they already knew by following her and were just trying to rattle her nerves. If so, it worked.

Sullivan stared at the dusty apartment. It was all familiar, yet foreign. Like a childhood friend seen decades later. The cracked tile, fifth from the sink, held a hidden compartment beneath it. She pried it up and inspected the emergency pistol she’d stashed there. Once again, something felt… off. She knew of two other missions in the region since she was there. Why hadn’t the agency used this place again? And why was it still vacant? Untouched?

That was when she noticed arced lines in the dust. The crooked chair at the kitchen table had been moved recently. The safe house was compromised. Now that she was looking, the outlines of cautious footsteps could be seen on the various hard surfaces. They crisscrossed the rooms, disappearing on the dingy bedroom carpet and reappearing in the hall.

Her heartbeat quickened as she followed the steps. The stashed pistol was cocked and ready in her hand. She tore open every door, bracing herself for booby traps and hidden attackers. But nothing came. It looked like whoever was there had gone and left no evidence behind.

Or maybe they were just playing the long game.

The search was on once more, this time for listening devices and cameras. When her search turned up empty again, Sullivan leaned into the shadow near the window and surveyed the street below. Something was very wrong here. It had to be. Nothing was adding up today.

She stayed by the window for the rest of the day. In the late evening, a dark van pulled up. A lanky man in a leather jacket emerged. She shifted the curtain just enough to watch him storm inside. Sullivan shifted over to the door. Wiping the peephole clean, she saw the shape of the man stomping up the stairs to her floor. He cracked his knuckles as he walked toward her.

He stopped suddenly in front of the apartment next door. One hard knock brought a hefty old man to the door. The visitor leaned in close and whispered. It must have been a password, because the door swung open. Coincidences were all too rare in this profession. He was there to get close to her. She thought about getting out and finding somewhere else to lay low, but the idea of getting some intel on her attackers was irresistible.

Once inside, there was a long conversation in a language Sullivan couldn’t quite decipher. She listened through the thin walls, hoping for a clue that would tell her who was after her. All she could tell was that they were discussing a woman. Someone who’d given both of them a lot of grief. Sullivan could only assume they were planning their next attack against her.

An hour later, the conversation quieted. Were they also waiting for backup? She went back to the window to plan her next move. She couldn’t stay there. But looking outside, she wasn’t sure she could leave, either.

More conspicuous vehicles appeared since she last checked. She wished a pair of binoculars were stashed with the pistol. The streetlights were dim at best. She could swear someone was watching her. She couldn’t leave the safe house. She’d be too exposed, even in the dead of night. So many buildings surrounded this one. A clever shooter could be perched in or on any of them, just waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe she could climb out a window they didn’t expect. The bedroom faced another building, with barely a gap between them. She opened the window and reached out. Her arm felt like it was going to explode when she braced herself against the walls of the gap. Her recently dislocated shoulder meant climbing was out. She was trapped until the men in the next apartment made their move. The inevitable chaos of a fight would give her more options.

Davis had told her not to go out into the field again so soon after her ordeal in the Arabian Desert. She had to think of her mental and physical health.’ She insisted she would be fine, but Sullivan was starting to think he was right. None of her missions were secure until the threat to her life could be dealt with. Once she got out of this mess, she was going to hunt down those sons of bitches.

Murky tap water poured into cupped hands. Some she drank, while the rest was splashed on her face. She had to stay alert to stay alive. She spotted an unusual pair on the uneven sidewalk. A man and a woman, both wearing dark clothing, strolled down the road like it was a sunny spring day. Sullivan went for the gun left by the sink. Anyone at ease on a night like this was dangerous. The woman stared up at the windows. Sullivan ducked into the shadows, careful not to be seen.

One of them had to know who was behind the attacks. She glanced again but the pair had gone inside. She could hear the soft shuffling of feet coming up the stairs. Sullivan tipped the kitchen table on its side and crouched down.

The footsteps grew louder.

There was a knock at the door. Sullivan waited. If she made a noise, it would only give away her position. The knocking grew more insistent. The man cleared his throat.

“Delivery for a Ms. Sullivan.”

She pointed her weapon at the door. She heard the handle rattle, followed by the rusty-hinged screech of the door opening. This was it. Sullivan furrowed her brow. These two would be kept alive just long enough to talk.

Boom!
The tiny jet reeled.
Sullivan’s dossier spilled from her lap. Her drink crashed against the wall.
Why now?
She’d already escorted the target to his embassy safely. Not only was the mission over, but she was the only passenger on this flight.
An oxygen mask dangled in front of her as she tore off her seatbelt. She frowned as she passed the unfortunate stewardess collapsed against a window. Blood trickled down the woman’s forehead.
The explosion had come from the cockpit. Sullivan held her breath and crashed through the door. A rush of air escaped the cabin, exiting through the shattered windshield.
What a mess.
The pilot lay charred and scattered over his controls. Smoke billowed out the windshield as the air stabilized with the outside. Ahead, a vast desert was quickly filling up the entire view. With no controls, her options were limited. She could jump, or die.
The damage didn’t have the hallmarks of a bomb. Somebody out in the desert was intent on blasting her out of the sky. Her mysterious attackers were after her head again. This time, they’d dragged two innocents into the fray.
HQ looked into the previous attempts on her life. No whos or whys popped up. No other agents were being targeted. But wherever Sullivan went, her invisible enemies were one step ahead.
Her face was blue by the time the air had stabilized. She gasped in a new lungful and returned to the cabin. She found the parachutes and grabbed the stewardess by the shoulder. The woman flopped closer. She’d passed out.
Sullivan yanked the nearest oxygen mask down and put it over the woman’s mouth. A quick slap across the face sped up the process. The stewardess opened one eye, then the other. That would have to do. The oxygen mask was removed and Sullivan strapped the parachute to the woman.
“You know how to use these, right?”
The stewardess looked down. She felt the parachute straps absently and nodded.
“What…?”
“We were attacked. Want to survive? Jump and let’s hope for the best.”
The woman swallowed hard. Sullivan kicked the emergency door open. The stewardess would go first. A quick shove was all it took. The stewardess screamed her way into the open air.
A second blast came from behind.
Sullivan grasped the edge of the emergency doorway for support. The jet was sent into a dangerous spin. If Sullivan wasn’t careful, she could get clipped by the craft. On top of that, the tilt had gotten much worse. She clung to the door frame just to keep herself from tumbling toward the cockpit.
She had to jump right now, but her enemies were waiting. As soon as she was out, they would fire. She had to make this count. Using a seat as a launchpad, she leapt from the jet.
The wind whipped against her face. She made her body as narrow as possible. The faster she went, the harder time they’d have shooting her. The dove down through the clear evening air like a hunting falcon. Bullets zipped through the air around her. Whoever was shooting had switched guns.
This couldn’t get too much worse. The new barrage wasn’t as visible or avoidable as what had knocked out the jet. Her parachute would be an easy target. But not opening it wasn’t an option either. She measured out the distance as best she could. She’d have to cut this close.
There.
She yanked the cord that opened the chute. Her chest felt like somebody had dropped a tank on it. She hacked and wheezed as she worked to recover from the change in velocity. The sound of gunshots and wind and near-miss bullets filled her ears. A quick glance up said her chute wasn’t going to last very long. It was already riddled with holes.
The closer she got to the ground, the better her enemies’ aim. One of the bullets hit her leg. Another grazed her ribs.
Amid the stinging pain, Sullivan suddenly heard someone screaming. She’d nearly forgotten about the stewardess. The cries came from above. She had zipped right past the stewardess on her jump. Hopefully the woman could hang on up there. Once they were safely on the ground, Sullivan could sort out what to do.
Another bullet sliced through a lock of Sullivan’s hair. She scowled as the hair floated toward the ground with her. The ground which was getting very near now. She scanned the area below her. It was a desert, likely the Arabian. Rocks and brittle trees dotted the landscape. All of them would make good cover. Shots flew in from every direction. There was a very real chance she was surrounded.
The holes in her parachute were getting bigger, growing with each new bullet that missed hitting Sullivan herself. The wind howled as it passed through. She was picking up speed. Through one of the holes, she could see the frantic stewardess. The woman’s chute was also torn up. Being above Sullivan was only attracting danger.
“Shift away from me so you don’t get hit! We’re almost there.”
The woman made no sign that she heard. A shrill whistle was tried next. Even that was drown out by gunfire and the stewardess’s own frightened wailing. Sullivan tried to shift herself away instead, but the damage to her chute was too great. She was falling like a boulder and completely at the mercy of gravity.
Suddenly, the woman’s screaming stopped. Sullivan jerked her head up. The chute’s flailing in the wind prevented a clear view, but there was no need to guess what happened. The only thing to do now was make sure she didn’t die as well.
Sullivan took a slow breath to clear her head. She stared stone-faced at the ground. Armed men and women emerged around her landing site. Hopefully they wouldn’t be expecting this. The guns below took aim. She held a hand to the straps securing the parachute.
Click.

February 9^th
Fascinating creatures, tardigrades. Commonly known as the waterbear, the creature can survive extreme temperatures, radiation, and go without water for years. We have much to learn about survival from the tardigrades. What advancements could be made in protective clothing? Space travel? Deep sea exploration? But they’re too small. Our progress has been limited. I’ve heard of an experimental enlarger being built nearby. That’ll do nicely.

February 18^th
I’ve appealed to the company to let me borrow their machine. Just one procedure! That’s all I asked for. They said never and kicked me out. My assistants say to leave it alone and work with what we have. I’ve contacted an old acquaintance – he used to beat me up in high school – to help me secure the machine. Once I’ve finished my research and won a Nobel prize, they’ll realize I was right.

February 21^st
Roger has worked out very well. Who knew a felon would be so useful? I paid him out of the assistants’ pay. They’ll get double once firefighters and armed forces realize how valuable the tardigrade-inspired armor can be. The machine arrived this morning. We put it in the basement, tucked behind the furnace. It’s smaller than I imagined, but entirely beautiful. My little waterbears will fit easily within the enlarging chamber. The first experiment will be tonight. I’ll stay behind after everyone goes home for the night. I want to see the look on the assistants’ faces when they see how much easier and comprehensive our research can be.

February 22^nd
Not a single one of them noticed. The tardigrades in sample A-42 are a full quarter-millimeter bigger! Fine. If that’s the way it must be, I’ll enlarge them again tonight. Twice! This has to work.

February 23^rd
Did I risk the assistants’ pay for nothing? Each tardigrade is now a full three millimeters in length. Mallory noticed, but thought it was some kind of anomaly. Even at that size, they’re still too small to study the way I want, the way they need to be. I’ll try again tonight. I’ll blast those little waterbears so much they’ll be the size of my hand!

February 27^th
The machine went back under cover of darkness. I’d never intended to steal it, only borrow. I sent an anonymous note along with it. The machine is a good idea, but the size increases are too minimal to be of any use. Keep trying. Hopefully they improve it and I can borrow the enlarger again. New tardigrades are seven millimeters. The assistants notice now, but it’s just not enough.

March 6^th
This is the most exciting news in the history of science! The enlarger worked, and better than I had hoped. The most recent set of tardigrade eggs from A-42 were larger than expected, even at the bigger adult size. The newly hatched tardigrades are eleven millimeters long! I can only hope that this continues.

May 24^th
With each generation, the waterbears are growing exponentially. I’ve successfully grown a two-inch tardigrade! The assistants and I have uncovered more of the tiny creature’s secrets in the past month than we had in the past four years! I’ve published a paper on our findings, excluding any details on the larger size that brought us this knowledge.

August 19^th
Several agencies have contacted us about our discoveries. They want to partner with us and create tardigrade polar exploration gear. The assistants have finally quieted down about my taking their money. It’s a big payday for all of us. The only trouble is they want to see our lab. The newest tardigrades barely fit in my hand. We’ll have to find a place to hide them away. One of them bit me yesterday, too. I blamed the bandages on a neighbor’s dog. Nobody has to know.

September 3^rd
Mallory was bitten while transporting the newest and largest watebears. She dropped the crate they were in, scattering our livelihood! We only recaptured half of them. On a positive note, I haven’t noticed any rats in the alley outside. Cats either. Also, it will be easier to hide fewer waterbears. They’re coming in a few days.

September 11^th
Well, that was a disaster. Brian, now my least favorite assistant, let our secret slip. Our visitors didn’t see the benefits, only danger. The government swooped in and destroyed our specimens. I’m absolutely devastated. All the good that could come of it? All of the advancements that were already made possible? They crushed our potential like cockroaches in the cabinet. There’s still hope, though. I heard a report of a strange, hairless wolf eating neighborhood pets. It has to be our escaped tardigrades! Even one would put our lab back on its feet. I’m off to hunt them down.

September 17^th
I finally cornered one tonight. It was huge! The size of a boar, at least! I’d consider farming them, if this one didn’t seem intent to rip me to shreds. I have some competition in the hunt, as well. It’s officially tardigrade season. They’ve eaten everything around town. Hundreds roam the forests and fields. All I need is one. I’m not giving up on them or this project.

October 31^st
Halloween seems like a fitting date for my last entry. The waterbears have infested North America. They’ve continued to grow at an alarming rate. I finally caught one, only to have it tear off and eat my leg in its attempt to escape. A man with a shotgun ‘saved’ me from it and ruined my plans. The police are looking for me. Everyone wants to kill the one who unleashed the tardigrade menace upon the world. I’m leaving for someplace warm to spend my final days. All I can hope now is that the tardigrades enjoy their new dominance on this planet.

I get vertigo. Not, like, constantly or anything, but it’s one of my quirks. As I was lying in bed last night, I stared at the ceiling coming up with haikus about the experience. That’s just how I roll (Haha).

Fun with vertigo
Carnival ride in my mind.
Please, can I get off?

Spin, roll, twirl, and turn
Here in the darkness I sit
All I want is sleep

The room lays still.
Open eyes hold it at bay,
But I am slipping

I never feel sick
It isn’t so terrible
Just another quirk

Alright, let’s do this.
Going to try to sleep now.
Crap. It is still here.

I was planning on posting this yesterday, but I got caught up by sleep. A lot of it, too. I apparently needed a rest after my 32 hours of nonstop fun times. The story behind it is that I was on the blue line toward O’Hare and saw a guy with a guitar case. I started thinking about what kind of person only takes a guitar on the plane and then decided it was full of luggage and he just likes the way people treat him if they think he’s a musician.

The old man sat at his desk scowling at the news in front of him. He growled for his assistant and pointed at the papers.

“You’ve seen the reports?”

“Increased volcanic activity. They say the pit’s opened too. He’s early, isn’t he?”

“By a decade or more. The demon grows bored. The span of peaceful years shortens each time.”

“If we had a few more years, we might have been able to fight back.”

“You’re sure? If we were to fight and fail, the world would burn.”

“But…”

“We don’t have a choice. Perhaps next century we will have the power to free ourselves from him. For now, bring in the lovers.”

The assistant nodded solemnly and went to the door. Outside, several couples sat waiting. The interviews were quick. They didn’t have much time. The fifth pair was the most promising. They stayed close to one another as they walked into the dark room. The old man greeted them and requested that they sit. As they did, he could see the girl was visibly shaking. The old man folded his hands together and leaned forward.

“You’re very brave – both of you.”

The boy grinned nervously, clutching his lover’s hand. She just looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“You understand the task?”

“A couple must enter the pit and test their love against the demon’s hatred. That’s what the flyer said.”

“Exactly. Hundreds of couples before you have saved the world with the power of love.”

“And… if we pass the test… we’ll be safe.”

“The whole world will be safe, for a while, at least. Do you love one another?”

The two answered in stereo.

“Yes.”

“And you want to save life on Earth? You would do anything to save us?”

There was a short pause while the two locked in a sentimental gaze. Another simultaneous answer.

“…Yes.”

If anyone could save them, it would be these two. There was a shaking of hands and the couple was sent on their way. As the pair left, the old man turned to his assistant.

“I had hoped I wouldn’t live so long that I would bear this burden.”

The young couple was flown to the San Andreas fault line. A cave became visible below them as the helicopter descended. There were no trees for miles around the entrance to the pit. It had all been burned away by bursts of lava. The couple was left to stare blankly at their surroundings as the aircraft shooed them off and retreated to the skies. The boy turned to the mouth of the cave. It was black and smooth, save for a handful of formations which looked like jagged teeth. The girl grabbed his hand tight and started walking into the dark.

They walked down the shadowy path for what felt like hours. Their flashlight flickered and finally faded completely. The two lovers groped their way along the slick walls. A noise ahead of them rumbled like rolling thunder. A tiny glimmer of orange was reflected off the walls from somewhere below and ahead of them.

Once their eyes adjusted to the dim light, their pace quickened. They must be close now. By the end, they were running, fueled by the thought of passing the trial of love and returning home safely. The two exploded into a large chamber filled with pools of magma. The roaring noise was loudest here, a combination of fire and creature. A large beast full of teeth and horns and claws lounged at the far end of the room. He dipped a hand into a nearby pool and scooped up a sip of molten rock.

“Humans. Welcome. Come closer.”

The couple nervously took a step forward. The demon laughed and stomped his giant foot on the ground so it tilted the earth.

“Closer!”

They tumbled to the ground and slid down until they were within a few inches from the monster’s massive body.

“We… we’ve come to prove ourselves – our love – so the world won’t burn.”

“Is that so? Well, step up to the wall there.”

He pointed at a stone wall to his right. It had a large hole in the center. The creature interrogated them from behind as they stared at the mysterious wall.

“So… humans. You love one another?”

They locked arms around each other.

“With all our hearts.”

“I believe you.”

“Then… we’ve won? The world is safe?”

“Do you care about the world?”

“Well… yes…”

“Do you love it?”

The couple turned to the beast, horrified. He grinned and languidly rested his head on his hand.

“You see, you can only save one of the things you love. You can either save yourselves or the rest of the world. Which do you choose?”

The two lovers looked at each other once more, still wrapped in a tight embrace. What choice was this? It would be impossible to live if the world died. They would soon starve or die by some volcano the demon created. But to save life on Earth meant losing their own lives. They shared a parting kiss and faced the wall defiantly. If passing the test of love meant death, then they would succeed together. A fanged smirk grew on the monster’s face.

“So be it. You’ve saved the world.”

It took only a second for white-hot flames to erupt from the hole in the wall. The lovers were reduced to ash and lazily swept up by the demon. He sprinkled a small amount of ash onto a handful of magma and lifted it up to enjoy the aroma this new spice added. The chemicals that caused the feeling of love made for an intoxicating flavor. He let the glowing liquid flow down his throat and smiled. After his meal, the beast collected the rest of the ash and placed it carefully on a stone shelf above the magma pool. Perhaps when his spice ran out next time, he would demand at least three lovers be sent.

Bert’s been reading the Personal MBA list, so I thought I’d encourage him through magnetic poetry. We own the innuendo set, which is surprisingly well-fitted to the task. Though after a while, when I run out of words, the phrases start getting… weird.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Sullivan looked back at her dining companion. The deathly pale woman pursed her lips and tipped her head gently toward the door. A man in black gloves had replaced the maître d’. Out of the corner of her eye, Sullivan could see that several waiters were eying her. At least one of them was carrying a gun. The thin woman repeated her veiled threat and gestured to Sullivan’s now empty chair.

“Best not to try. So many innocent bystanders would die. Please sit, chat, and drink.”

She sat once more. The muscles in her jaw clenched tight as she glared at the woman across the table. She had been set to meet an important contact, someone who knew who was behind the various attempts at her life. They didn’t mention that the contact was the mysterious enemy.

“As I was saying, you have been… difficult.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Well, no longer. Let’s toast to your getting out of my hair once and for all.”

“I think I’ll pass. Have you considered maybe you’re the problem here?”

Sullivan leaned forward on the table and smirked. The closeness obviously disturbed the pale woman. Her papery lips quivered and she pulled out a handkerchief to dab above her barely visible eyebrows. The woman moved the handkerchief to her lap before bringing it back up covering her other hand which was now obviously holding a small handgun.

“You don’t seem like the type to do this kind of dirty work.”

A high-pitched sigh emerged from the slender woman’s lungs, hovered for a moment, and died.

“On a good day, no, but you’ve forced my hand.”

“You’re going to shoot me?”

“Oh, heavens no! You will taste that very special drink I have prepared for you.”

The glass in front of Sullivan was filled with what appeared to be a deep red wine. She understood now why the waiter insisted on pouring it, though she had only asked for water. This woman really loved drugging her. Or poisoning. It was supposed to be a permanent solution to her ‘meddling’ after all.

“Fine. I’ll drink, but you have to tell me what it is I’ve apparently done.”

“You mean you’ve forgotten Frankfurt? Mumbai? Damascus? New York? Paris?”

“Who could forget Paris? Those beautiful spring mornings?”

“It was the dead of winter, you…!”

The slender woman’s head twitched at an odd angle in her in rage. The man in black gloved hands made a motion toward their table, but she waved him off as she composed herself.

“I know who you are, spy, whether or not you will admit to it.”

“And if you’ve been desperately trying to kill the wrong person?”

“If I still run into trouble after you’ve died? I shall kill that person as well.”

“Well you’ve gotten this all figured out, haven’t you?”

“Of course. Now, I believe you’ve stalled enough. Take a drink.”

Using her napkin to pick up the glass, Sullivan studied its contents. This brought no objections from the woman, which meant the glass was probably safe and the liquid was the real trouble. She swirled the wine in connoisseur fashion and held her nose a few inches away. Almonds. They weren’t even trying to mask the cyanide. That was a very bad sign. They had enough confidence in their ability to escape unnoticed that they didn’t care about covering up the cause of death.

“Smells like a fine vintage, though maybe too sweet. Are you sure you won’t join me?”

The woman narrowed her eyes and motioned with her almost-hidden gun. Sullivan lifted the glass as if to drink, meanwhile watching the reactions of those that wanted her dead. The pale woman licked her lips absently. The waiters had relaxed slightly, as had the gloved man.

Just before the edge of the glass hit her lips, Sullivan flipped the drink back toward the woman. The poisoned wine splashed her face as well as her pristine white clothes. She shrieked, calling the attention of the entire room.

In an instant, Sullivan had her opponent’s gun and shot the glass window next to them. Thank goodness she was on the ground floor this time. The glass cracked in a large spiderweb pattern around the bullet hole. That white wisp couldn’t just carry a normal caliber gun, could she? She shot again, this time shattering the glass, but the waiters and the gloved man had started their attack in the time it had taken for that second shot.

Sullivan jumped out of the old restaurant onto the sidewalk. A few scratches from broken glass were an easy payment for her life. Outside, she discovered more of the slender woman’s associates were waiting for her. She quickly turned her jump into a roll, dodging the bulk of the incoming barrage of bullets. The few that did make impact were buried deep in muscle – nothing that couldn’t be fixed. An empty car waiting for the valet became her shield against further attack.

Through the broken window, Sullivan heard shrill and frantic orders.

Bullets glanced off the side of the car as Sullivan shifted her position to the street. She would hope for a taxi, but the gunfight had cleared the area. She could run across the road into the alley, but that would give her assailants an easy target.

Sullivan lifted her head to count how many were after her. Through the driver’s side window, she counted five men and two women – all armed. As she counted, a glint of silver caught her eye. The keys had been left in the ignition. She grinned at her wonderful luck. They made this too easy.

She removed her jacket and shot a few times over the hood of the car. At the same time, she carefully unlatched the car door. Sullivan took one last, deep breath before throwing her coat as high and far as possible and jumped into the vehicle. The distraction only lasted a split second, but it gave her time to turn the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life. One of the men approached the passenger door before Sullivan shot him in the chest. The others returned fire. She heard a rear tire get blown out just as the car swerved out of control. She fought for control and found a bumpy equilibrium. It only had to last a few more minutes. Once she was further away she would switch cars with one she’d kept for just this kind of situation.

Nearby, the woman’s associates were piling into their own trucks, ready for the chase. Sullivan laughed. Even like this, she could lose them. The slender woman, fuming and shouting through the broken window, was given one final parting gesture as Sullivan sped off into the night.