The Salvation Shark, Chapter 55

Anton

Pete Stringer is the kind of guy you don't want to know that many details about. He graduated the middle of every class he's ever been in and always followed a career path with the closest money-to-danger ratio. His willingness to sit out jobs to do paperwork immediately endeared him to the SpectraCom bureaucracy, and he quickly rose in the ranks. "Fucking freeze!” shouts Pete Stringer, whipping his piece and pointing at me like an action hero. “Mutha-fuckin-freeze!” Pete Stringer keeps the weapon aimed a moment, and then does a victory dance. It would be easy to gut him right now, even without much of a cutting-tool sharper than his belt buckle, but we are both equally surprised by the flaming sword tip that erupts through his sternum. It retracts in time for Pete Stringer to face his killer.

“Sorry, Pete,” Martin says, or maybe Abraxas. Whomever is speaking, they step in close so that Pete Stringer can lay a hand on the shoulder of one, or the same, or even the other, who also underestimated Pete Stringer. The decorated SpectraCom agent sticks his gun under the chin Martin grew and blows apart the head in a bloody mist before Stringer falls down and dies himself. Martin is mostly headless, and the rest of his face is fallen on. The fire on the sword goes out.

“Anton, run!” Becki screams and pulls me back. I hold my ground.

“It’s okay,” I say between deep breaths. It will take a long time to put that back together.”

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