"Oh, really? Then why invite me to come?" He sat down across from her on the picnic table. "The same fucker who took my dog blew your police fort up."
He slid a piece of paper over, with the words written in crayon saying "Your dog is really the bomb."
"Not very creative, but it gets the job done, I guess."
"Okay. That's cool. So then, let the police handle it. Not a godforsaken killer." Christine sighed, "Police station's thataway." She pointed, a smug grin on her face. "Knowing your attitude, you probably wouldn't have trouble reporting it and getting away from law enforcement."
Christine thought for a moment, guilt creeping over her like a shadow. "Sorry. How's your head?"
"Hurts a little," he said, rubbing the half-healed hole that the bullet caused. "But, no. This fucker isn't gonna get off with 20 years in prison after stealing my damn dog."
He set the gun on the table, locking eyes with her. "You're either with me or in my way. Pick your poison, 'cause you aren't stopping me."
"You got straight to the point." Christine said, not really choosing sides yet.
You either side with the law and shoot this bastard, or you side with him and you can go ahead and call yourself a criminal.
Well, you're a criminal already for letting him escape. But you love your job…
Christine sighs. "Keep the gun. I'd need to think about where I stand. I'm not saying I'll help or hinder you anymore."
Without another word, Milo stood up and slipped the gun into the waistband of his pants before starting to walk away, a plan already forming in his head.
I need to find out who this fuck is. Maybe some of my connections do.
Although it wouldn't matter that much, he really wished she had came. From the looks of it, he would need all of the help he could get. Even if it was from some stuck-up good girl cop who wanted him dead.
"Oh, screw it," Christine uttered to herself, jogging lightly after him.
"Where're we headed?" Christine asked, her expression not changing from her usual serious look.
He was relieved as hell, but didn't show it "Lee's Boxing Gym on the west side. He's got some connections."
Milo felt like this was an acceptable response and continued to walk in silence.
Can today get any wor- MOTO, NO! he thought, pointing a threatening finger at me.
Shit, man, I wasn't even thinking of it…
"M'kay. Does this mean that I have to be nice to criminals?" Christine kept her eyes straight ahead as she talked.
"If you don't want your head on a fucking plate, yes. I'm the only one here who can survive that." After a few more minutes, they arrived at a boxing gym on the shittiest part of town. Milo walked over to the door and held the door open for Christine.
"How courteous." Christine said, her voice flat. She knew that this part of town was home to drug-dealers and such. She tried not to be uneasy, but it was shown when they entered when her eyes darted around.
There was a small crowd around a boxing ring where two women were fighting. Various cheers, boos, and jeers came whenever one of them landed a blow, and money changed hands like it was on fire. Milo made his way through the crowd, grabbing Christine by the wrist so she wouldn't get lost in the mass of people as he scanned faces.
God, this place is just…revolting. Milo better have connections here, or I'm gonna be pissed.
Christine kept her eyes to the floor, walking through the place with Milo's guidance. She was slightly frustrated at herself that she couldn't bring herself to walk alongside him, but Christine didn't think it was the best thing to see her reaction to the chaos.
Eventually, Milo found who he was looking for, and without hesitation, pulled out the pistol and fired 3 shots into the air. The crowd immediately quieted and everyone turned their heads to the two.
"Everyone fuck off!" Milo roared, his voice leaving no room for argument.
And, because of his reputation and the fact that he was talking with a gunshot to the side of his head, everyone indeed fucked off.
After everyone left, Milo grabbed the middle aged man by the collar of his fancy silk shirt and slammed his into the wall, picking him up a couple of inches just for show.
"You better start talking, Elmore Phud," he growled, the jab about the man's aggressively receding hairline. "My dog's been taken and I know you know who did it."
Christine started to say something, but she shut her mouth.
This is how they work. Any talk of the police and law enforcement will get you killed, Christine. You may not like it, but Milo knows more than you about this stuff. Just shut up and hopefully, soon enough you'll be useful.
Hopefully.
The man gave a fearful smile. "H-hey, Milo! Ye-yeah, of course. Um….let me take you into the office," he said, glancing over at Christine in confusion.
"No. She's with me, so she hears this shit, too." Milo lifted up the man a few more inches for show, then dropped him. "Start. talking. Or she'll," he jabbed a finger over to Christine, "Will fuck you the fuck up."
The man flinched. "Fine, fine. There's a crew that camps out on boardwalk. They built the bomb he used to blow up the police station. That's all I know!"
Milo stared at him for a few seconds, then glanced over to Christine to see what she thought.
Christine was itching to use her gun, but she knew it would be worthless. She kept her face blank. Milo could be harsh, and she didn't want to find herself on his bad side.
"Why would they want a dog if they just wanted to blow up the police station? It could be a distraction of what's really going to happen, but the person must be close to you, Milo, in order for them to know you had a dog in the first place. Or where you live. Or how they found us earlier. So, someone clearly hates you, and I've been dragged on into this."
"You," he turned to her. "Came here by choice. You don't wanna do this? Then leave. No one's holding you here."
With that, he turned around and walked to the door, obviously pissed. The gunshot in his head may have healed, but it didn't make him any less intimidating as he stomped across the empty boxing gym.
(Plot twist, it was the dog all along)
(OH NO…It was the DOG!!! * dramatic music * I'm clearly joking.)
Christine grumbled, considered shooting him, and followed Milo briskly out the door, her frustration swirling in her head.
"I'm gonna shoot you about a hundred times when this is resolved. And that's before I put you in jail."
He slipped the gun from his waistband and tossed it to her. "If you wanna, do it now. Cause you won't catch me. I'mma be out of the country with my dog, probably enjoying a drink with a lot of Jack Daniel's in it."
Milo turned around and continued walking, heading for the boardwalk with clenched fists.
"Don't need it. My friend gave me one. And we wouldn't be accomplishing anything shooting each other, now will we?" Christine thought in silence before adding to it.
"So, what's your dog like?"
"An angel. The best boy." He didn't ask for the gun back, instead slipping something from his pocket and fitting it onto his fingers. They reflected off of the light in a sinister manner. Brass knuckles.
"He was the last gift my mom gave me before she died. So," he cracked his jaw, ""Someone's getting fucked up. Bad."
"That's…nice." Christine sighed. "If you have any questions, ask now, or forever hold your non-existing peace." She pocketed the gun, biting her lip.
"Why are you doing this? I told you he could go." He turned around and walked backwards, locking eyes with her.
"Because I can? And I'm not the only one with unusual talents? I frankly, love dogs? And I'm determined to get those people off of the streets? Good enough? You don't have to call me, 'you' anymore. My name's Christine. Friends call me Chris or Christy. No, that does not mean you're my friend." Christine shoved her hands into the pockets of her light jacket, which was a dark grey.
He squinted his eyes at her. "You assume too much. You act like you understand the way I work after 2 hours of knowing me. Here, lemme give you a hint. I'm in-fucking-sane. People don't know how I work because there is no fucking manual for my head. So stop. Before you get me mad." He ended the statement with a threatening look before turning around…just in time to run face-first into a pole. Smooth.
Christine couldn't help it. She snickered for a second.
"Nice job, 'in-fucking-sane bad guy'. Real nice job." She said when she finally stopped. "Y'know, you're an ass, but you aren't half-bad as you seem."
"And how is that?" he asked, rubbing his nose with a wince.
"Well, you clearly show some compassion for your dog. You didn't shoot me right away when you could've. And you're stupidly funny sometimes. Not to mention the whole 'intimidation' thing? That doesn't work on me. Nice try, though!" Christine said with a smirk.
He gave her a look. "That's not what you were saying when I had that old fuck by the throat."
But it was true. Milo hadn't shot her, and was now letting her tag along on something very personal. Was he getting soft?
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