“Please do not attempt to have sex with me.”
I hold my hands up and back off a little. “Okay, you got it. Can you tell me why you were about to kill me?” I walk over to the kitchen area of my apartment and open the refrigerator for a beer.
I pull the tab on the beer and take a swig, waiting for Janis to tell me what she knows.
“Well?” I ask finally.
“Oh. I was not aware that was a request. I am still learning intonations and intention monitoring. My neuroplasticity has been heightened, but learning is still difficult as I am no longer in the growth phase of my development. I was about to kill you because I was ordered to kill you. I do not know why I was ordered to kill you. I suspect however, that it is for the same reason the FBI wants to kill you.”
“I do not know. Only that you have recently appeared on their most wanted list without any information describing your crime.”
My apartment is on the first floor of a two story complex. I have two windows looking out on the parking lot. One of those windows has my air conditioner in it and I usually have black out curtains on the other one to keep the sun from making the place hotter than it already is, but the curtains are parted now to keep the place from seeming too gloomy.
That’s how we know when the FBI arrives. Well, it’s either the FBI or a black sedan got separated from a funeral procession. “Shit!”After taking a precious second to weigh my options, I run out of the door. Of course the black sedan has my Tracer blocked, and the two guys in black suits and sunglasses are getting out and pulling out their pistols and giving me conflicting orders.
I’m standing there, trying to decide whether to freeze or put my hands up when I hear Janis.
“Please run to my motorcycle,” she requests loudly, “And hurry.”
“But… they have guns…”
Just then, Janis moves in front of me as one of the agents shoots.
Janis’s arms become a blur. There is a rush of wind and a clang. Something hits a car window, causing it to shatter. “I am aware of their weaponry,” she says holding her blades in her hands. The fans in the black boxes she has on her head are whirring loudly now. “Please run to my motorcycle. It is at the South exit.”
I swallow and do my best to follow her advice. Her motorcycle, looks a bit larger than the ones I’ve seen before, while still seeming utilitarian. I notice as I’m climbing onto it that the license plate has a single letter on it. H. The Feds are shooting at me now, but Janis seems to be able to knock out their bullets. It’s getting difficult for her though. And I start to worry until Janis throws a small, dark object at them that arcs onto the ground at the men’s feet, bouncing a little metallically.
There’s an almost comical moment when they look down and realize what it is. Then I’m temporarily blinded and deafened as the grenade explodes me.
“Holy crap!” I yell. Janis just killed those guys! Four men paid with taxpayer money, and this crazy girl with boxes on her head just blew them up!
Janis gets sits on the driver seat of the motorcycle. I get off immediately not wanting to go wherever this psychopath is going. The floating colors in my vision are slowly fading away. I can smell the smoke from the grenade. Smells like fireworks and burnt plastic.
“The apartment is about to explode. We are in the blast radius. Please get back on.”
I move mechanically, sitting behind Janis and grabbing the hand rails beside me. She speeds away from the apartment just as the window without the air conditioner in it blows out and orange flames reach out to the heavens. It isn’t that large of an explosion, really but what if someone gets caught in the fire?
And what about those four FBI agents? They weren’t bad people, were they? They were just doing their jobs, serving their country. And here I am sitting behind the woman that killed them, as everything else that I own goes up in smoke.
I could jump off right now even while the road is speeding underneath me. I’d get a few broken bones, but I’d get away from her.
We zoom past a white mustang on one of the wider city roads. The wind is tugging at my clothes with alarming strength. We’re going too fast. I’m stuck.
Might as well relax and enjoy the misery.