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February 6th 2014 19:10 Union Pacific Train Yard, Phoenix, Arizona "They're going to kill us all!" Vanilla was barely audible over the
sound of gunshots. The pinging of bullets ricocheted off the train carriage,
spent cartridges clanking noisily on the rail. Jackrabbit felt her pressing
herself into him; against his arm was her heartbeat, in his mind was her panic.
For her sake if nothing else, Jackrabbit remained calm. He'd been here before; not in an
Arizona train yard, he didn't remember being in one of those before. But he'd
been under fire by men in suits on many occasions. There was the assault in the
amphitheatre, and that time they stormed
the swimming pools. Jackrabbit had nearly drowned in the toddler's pool on that
occasion. But the one constant was always Tero Haber, the over-zealous and
under-dressed sociopath with the master plans. Only this time Tero had got the jump
on them. They'd been betrayed. The thought
hammered at the insides of Jackrabbit's skull. He pushed it aside, tucked it
away in a mental cabinet for another time. He'd come back to that later.
Survival was his only priority now. "What
the fuck do we do? What the fuck do we do?" Spyke had managed to keep his cool
for a whole thirty seconds before breaking out into a terrified wail. Now he was
repeating the same panicked expression over and over. And over. Jackrabbit had
never listened to Spyke before, he wasn't planning to start now. He listened to Stevie though, maybe
Stevie had a good idea. But Stevie had dashed the other direction to take cover
from the gunfire. Jackrabbit preferred left, it always felt more natural to jump
left. Maybe he had a stronger left leg. "I don't want to die, JR�" She clutched his arm so tight he
could feel the circulation cutting off. The gunfire had stopped, he noticed,
but from their vantage point under the carriage they could see the suited men
approaching. A Jumanji stampede of a dozen black
shoes and a dozen black socks. "They're coming.. they're coming right up to us.." "They'll
kill us, they'll put the fucking guns under the carriage and shoot us point
fucking blank, we're fucked, we're fucking dead.." Jackrabbit had considered the alternative outcomes, but
weighed against a cup of cocoa as a peace offering and a nice friendly game of
charades, he had to concede that the shooting was the likely outcome. Still, he
really liked cocoa and he was great at charades. The gravel crunched under the
polished black shoes as they neared the carriage, and now Jackrabbit could see
the barrels of the guns the men carried. Spyke whimpered like a dying ferret.
But they were all ferrets now really, and they were hunted, trapped as rabbits
in a hole. Like Jackrabbit had been by Talon. He'd had no escape from Talon
either, and Talon had consumed his prey. Jackrabbit had lost at Brawltopia, and The Hunter had claimed its prize. History
would not repeat itself here. Vanilla and Spyke were too afraid
to notice his eyes gloss over, to notice how his stare became vacant. He pushed
outwards from his body, prone and useless under the carriage. He pushed out
with his mind and then from the outside he saw the carriage, knew that beneath
it were the three they had come to execute. Tero had made the orders clear that
they would shoot before any more shenanigans could happen; the primary target
was too unpredictable to be taking any chances. The targets had holed up nice,
but not for long; they'd put the gun under the carriage, and they'd scare the
boars out from under the log. If they'd just come out from under there, it'd be
an easy shot, and a nice tasty meal for Kathy and the children. The sun was
shining, and there was a breeze in the woodland trees, a beautiful day for a
little hunting. Roast boar was his favorite, with a ripe apple stuffed in its
mouth for presentation. And here they came now, the three little piglets, far
too small to be killed for food in hindsight, their curly little tails springing
as they ran. The straw house had fallen down, the log one too, but the three
little piglets meant no harm to anybody. They were adorable, really. He watched
them run away, away from him and his associates, the little piglets holding
hands, scurrying over the sand in their bowler hats, a smoking pipe in each of
their snouts. But one of the little piglets
stopped, the poor mite, dizzy and fatigued, and he looked like he might faint. Perhaps
if he got to him in time he could help him, stop the piglet from falling down.
But too late, the piglet hit the ground, and another piglet screamed, shouting "JR, don't stop now! What's wrong?" which was an especially peculiar
thing for a piglet to say. And there was Tero, a confused look on his face as
he stared at the three little.. at the primary target, collapsed in a heap on
the floor, and the two secondary targets beside him with panicked looks on
their faces. "He's messing with our heads, you idiots! Snap out of it, shoot
them! Shoot them!" Vanilla had enough time only to
scream as the guns fired, and the tires screeched, and dogs barked. The sound
of shouting, and bullets rebounding harmlessly off the hood. Right in front of her, between them
and the suited men, was a Hummer H2. The most beautiful vehicle she had ever
seen in her life. "Get in tha' car, get in tha' car!" The voice was gruff, but it was the
sweetest voice in the world right now and Vanilla wasn't about to disobey it.
Spyke pushed past her through the open door, and she scurried onto the passenger
seat beside him. She glanced back to see a large black man hoisting an
unconscious Jackrabbit onto the adjacent seat, next to two wild-eyed pitbulls, their shrill barks still sounding out. An enraged Swedish lisp became
background noise with the gunshots as the 4x4 screeched out of the train yard,
kicking up dust behind it. "Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, be quiet!" shouted the large black man as soon as they'd cleared
the gates, and the two pitbulls ceased their barking
on cue.
"The
fuck 'appened back there?" "They
knew we were coming. We've been betrayed!" Jackrabbit's
words echoed back by Spyke, like a parrot. "No shit you 'ave, boy." In the rear view mirror his expression didn't change
at all. This wasn't news to their mysterious benefactor. "Who
are you?" Spyke demanded in what he
probably thought was his lion voice. He actually sounded like a Meer cat. "Your damn savior, s'all yah need ta know." "Spyke�" "Where's..
Stevie?" Spyke demanded again, sounding less
sure of himself now. "I dunno.. He weren't thar
when I drove in. Didn't see a body, neither.. live nor dead." "What?
Stevie's� gone?" "Spyke�" Spyke finally turned to look at
Vanilla, to see the blood seeping through her cut-off jeans where the bullet
had entered. Short of heroics, he turned white as a sheet. "You've�
They've�" "They.. they got me, yeah..." Jackrabbit stirred on the back
seat, but his eyes remained closed. The quicksilver is all around him
now, ebbing and flowing in and out of the station wagon and the rail tracks and
the carriage cars. Splashing to the floor it becomes rabbits, scurrying in a
row, chased at first by the big bad wolf. But the wolf does not remain a wolf,
and it becomes the snarling monochrome face of Tero Haber, barking out orders
in slurred English. Then a stampede of silvery suited men, marching along with
guns in their hands. Jackrabbit is surrounded, looking around the sepia world
at the men and their guns, pointing at him from the left and from the right.
They do not raise the weapons, nor they do not shoot him, instead becoming a
half dozen Kid Dynamos, sneering faces and scoffing pompous laughs. Oh Dynamo, Dynamo, Dynamo. Why are you here? This isn't a place for you. "I'm everywhere, loser. Kid Dynamo is everything and everything is
Kid Dynamo. GOD MODE!" states one of
the Kid Dynamos, matter-of-fact. Maybe that's how you see's it. That wouldn't surprise me. But I know the
truth about you, I can read it in every insult, in every barbed quip. I know that
you are sad. Sad and afraid.
Underneath that confident fa�ade is a scared man, terrified of losing his spot,
terrified of being seen as anything but the Number One. But I�ve already taken
that from you, hasn't I? For the first time in years, you is curtain-jerking a
Pay-Per-View.. for the first time in years you is facing a non-World Champion
one on one. You�re out of your element already; off your game, Dynamo- and you
haven�t even realized it yet! You is Randy The Ram, and you hasn�t even noticed
it. But Jackrabbit's not your Ayatollah, not your Mason Dixon- you already lost
that
match in House of Pain. You�re a dead man, Dynamo, and I�d sooner be
the carrion picking your bones. You's spent weeks telling Eva that she was crowding under
your spotlight, making a name for herself by association. No doubt you think
I's doing the same. But you were wrong about Eva, Brad.. Wrong because Eva
didn�t make a name for herself. Eva is still a nobody! Your association was pointless
to her because your spotlight has already diminished. Still, you feel the cool
glow as the bulb grows cold, and you call
it a spotlight. You�re right about one thing though, Dynamo. YOU'RE RIGHT! I will do as Eva did, I will clamor
towards that spotlight- but I will do as Eva didn�t, and I will actually take it. Because unlike Eva, I am cold. So cold, Brad. And your likkle light bulb may only give a little heat these days,
but I WANT IT! I WILL HAVE IT! "Kid Dynamo knew it!" proclaims
one of the quicksilver Kid Dynamos, cutting him off, and another Kid Dynamo
nods in agreement. Kid Dynamo always agrees with Kid Dynamo. "You're just
like Eva, muscling in on Kid Dynamo's big time name to get all of Kid Dynamo's
attention on you." No Bradley, I won�t be taking the
spotlight from you to heat my freezing veins. You see that is where you have
got me so very very wrong. You's
tarred me with the same brush that you tar every man, woman or monster you
fight. You's painted me in the same stripes you wear
BECAUSE YOU KNOW NOTHING ELSE! You accuse me of wanting glory for the sake of
glory, of wanting victories for the sake of victories, of wanting titles for
the sake of titles. "Everyone wants wins, everyone wants titles. That's all there is,
that's why Kid Dynamo fights!" and Kid Dynamo
waves his gun in the air. "Kid Dynamo too! GOD MODE!" confirms
Kid Dynamo, assuring a consensus. And that's where Kid Dynamo and Jackrabbit are very
different beasts, Bradley. The Hollywood Boulevards and the Main Event billings
are for people like you, for people like Eva De La Cruz. The tournament wins
and the Halls of Fame are for people like you, people like Jesse Williams. But
I don�t put on these tartan longshorts for any of
those things, Kid Dynamo. Count your wins, count your losses if it pleases you..
Give me a ratio of 0.2 and a percentage of 290, you can keep them! "You're not fooling Kid Dynamo, Jackrabbit. Kid Dynamo knows
everything. Kid Dynamo knows your plan is to beat me to get one more
contendership point for the World Title." And one of the Kid Dynamos snorts.
Another Kid Dynamo butts in, a maniacal grin on his punchable face. Even Kid
Dynamo wants to punch Kid Dynamo's face. "Kid Dynamo has a better plan, though. Kid Dynamo plans to beat YOU
to get one more contendership point for the World Title!" I don't doubt that for five solitary seconds! But WHEN I beat you at
Funeral of Hearts, it�s not because I will be one step closer to the OWF World
Title, and it�s not because I wants to be remembered as the man who beat Kid
Dynamo, either. Jesse Williams and Greg Jackson have already been touting that
claim in the last two months, and in two weeks� time someone else will be
claiming it too! No, Jackrabbit will beat you because YOU DESERVE IT! Two weeks ago I pinned Eva De La Cruz clean in the middle of an OWF
ring. I relished the feeling of her consciousness snapping from her body like a
shotgun pellet from a barrel, because I felt the wave of emotion outpouring from
the crowds and crowds of �Rabbit Fans when it did so. That wave of justice, the
arrival of the reckoning. I forewarned Eva that I would redeem the OWF for her
holding it hostage in the summer. And this week I will redeem the OWF for Kid
Dynamo ABANDONING IT! Greg Jackson is furious at you for ruining his long-awaiting title run
only to walk away. Redemption hates you for dropping the belt into the hands of
Eclipse before you did so. Chase Johnson resents you for destroying his
ratings. Selfish reasons, ALL OF THEM! "You're not free of having an ego either! Only Kid Dynamo is free
of having an ego!" claims Kid Dynamo. "Unless Kid Dynamo wants to have an ego! GOD MODE!" Kid Dynamo retorts, flicking his quicksilver hair. "Exactly! If not for self-gain, why would anyone even show up to
Funeral of Hearts!?" responds Kid Dynamo, also flicking
his quicksilver hair. My reasons are simple, Brad- I's showing up to hurt you. To hurt you for
what you did to the OWF, to my� to my� FAMILY! You want to know why Funeral of
Hearts matters to me, Dynamo, when to you it is just a curtain-jerking
non-title match against a midcarder on a B-show
Pay-Per-View? Because to Jackrabbit, this Sunday is a one-on-one fight on the most important show in the world against a self-centred
egotist who tried to destroy MY HOME! Dynamo, at Clash of Champions I looked you in the eyes, and I smashed a
microphone into your over-worked mouth and I dropped Eva De La Cruz on her
ignorant head! And I did those things because EJ Slayer made me realize
something. Amongst all the garbage he spews, he made me see the tiny golden
nugget of truth buried deep inside. He made me see that you DO over-look me,
you DO under-estimate me like I'm beneath you.. you DO think NOTHING of me..
and you think NOTHING of the OWF! "Lies! Kid Dynamo IS the OWF! Kid Dynamo has won ALL of the OWF
things!"
remarks one overly Kid Dynamoish Kid
Dynamo. "And Kid Dynamo won ALL of the ASW things! And Kid Dynamo won ALL
of the MVW things! And Kid Dynamo won ALL of the Hall of Fame things! GOD
MODE!" Kid Dynamo high-fives Kid Dynamo. Well isn't that just typical? You boasts of your accolades and your
achievements like the world owes you them� like the OWF owes you them! You
boasts about what you�s done elsewhere, the
accomplishments you claimed when you were actually in your prime a decade
ago... like it matters here, like OWF is just another SORDID FLING to you! Apt,
perhaps, for a man with a girlfriend or wife in every State! In both senses of
the word! But you will not make the OWF into your latest whore, Brad, and if
Greg was the first then Jackrabbit will be the second to throw up a road-block
to you making the OWF World Title your whore again too! I doctored your video last week to shows you the truth, Dynamo- the
truth that everything you think you�s accomplished in
the past means ABSOLUTELY NOTHING at Funeral of Hearts. This will come as a
shock to you, given that you lives day to day in the shadow of what you have already
done. The crippled war veteran remembering when he could run, the deaf man
convinced he can still hear the laughter of children. You calls me a joke, but
I doctored your video to show you that YOUR PAST IS A JOKE- your original video
would have made a cute retirement package, Dynamo, but until I got my grubby
paws on it, it was a false depiction of what you�ve become today. None of that
matters at the Pay-Per-View, because twelve-teen Halls of Fame and sixty-ten
World Titles and forty-thousand main events mean nothing on Sunday. Three
seconds are all that matters, and it�s in three seconds that I will pin you to
the mat� and that's not God Mode, that's Fate.. But Kid Dynamo is unperturbed by the
threat, turning to share a look of faux-fear with another Kid Dynamo.
Jackrabbit seizes the opportunity, and darts out towards the monochrome
carriage, skidding to a halt beneath it as the silvery Kid Dynamos surround him.
The only recourse now is to quickly morph into a monochrome piglet. Kid Dynamo
sees the change, and raises his quicksilver gun, aiming it towards the
Jackrabbit piglet under the carriage. "Hashtag Bang." Tero Haber had become very familiar
with the awkward silence that fell when a mission had failed. Not one of his
dozen underlings wanted to be the first to make a comment; to make themselves
the target of his wrath. He had that power over men, had always had that power over men.
He let the silence carry for just a couple precious minutes- he liked to let
them squirm just a little. "Well isn't that a big damn disappointment?" he allowed himself to say, and he could almost feel
the men averting their attention. He made a mental note of the ones who didn't;
those were the ones to watch. Either they were so boned-headed that they didn't
realize the consequences of Tero's disappointment; or they were so head-strong
that they would quickly become a threat. Either situation would not have a good
outcome for them. They had made themselves disposable. He stared at the scores of empty
shells and black tire tracks that now littered the Train Yard. How did that
half-soaked ingrate always manage to elude them? How did two low-life fugitives
with barely a penny to their name escape a multi-faceted international
organization with limitless; literally limitless; resources on every single
occasion!?They'd had the tip-off, they had the yard scouted and a perimeter set
up- snipers had eyes on the ground for a 2 mile radius. And yet- "They escaped in a Hummer!?!
Who was driving that vehicle?" Nobody responded, which was about
what he expected. But these cheap suits weren't paid for their thinking- they
were walking guns, the tool to impose the will of those who crafted it. "You!" he singled out one of
the nearest Disposables. "Who was driving that vehicle?" "We
don't� uh.. there's no intel on him�" "No intel!? We have fingers in a thousand
pies, hell- we have fingers in a thousand people who make a thousand pies. We
own the guy who invented pies! We own him, his mother, his great great grand niece- We watch every polaroid,
every tabloid, every radio wave, every brain wave, every screen and every
signal on the entire planet. If it's been thought, we think it! We are The
Council of Knowledge and we know what President Obama had for breakfast
yesterday, today, and what he's planning to have tomorrow! And we have no intel on one- black- man- in- a- Hummer!?" "I
uh.." "You really do. You 'uh' far more often than you should." Still this moron hadn't moved a muscle. What was the
point of hiring muscle that didn't move a muscle? "Find him!!" Finally the slack-jawed Disposable
ran off, his fingers slapping at his ear-piece like five fat maggots. Tero
moved away to survey the rest of the scene, his fingers idly spinning a ring on
his left hand. This was supposed to be the final time, the foolproof plan that
would put the psionic idiot into their custody for good. They would bleed their
contact dry until they found out who this new unknown ally was. This was the
last time, Tero swore on his mother's charred corpse, that Jay Ethelon and his
companion.. "Did anyone see Steven Guile get into that vehicle?" The lack of response meant that nobody
had. Four people had come into the Train Yard and three had gotten into that
forsaken Hummer. "I'd cuss at God if such a concept had any meaning whatsoever! Fan
the area, damnit� find him now! NOW!!" The little piglet breaks free of the
shelter under which he had hidden, and runs frantically down the track. This is
the track to freedom, to restitution. Two more piglets have joined him, one he
cares for deeply and the other he loathes. He sees the former as the elusive
prize, the latter as bacon. Maybe one day. But for now he has only one focus,
and that focus is to continue being chased down the track by a train, a
ceaseless pursuit by an engine that strongly resembles EJ Slayer, in a way that
only a steam engine can. The EJ Slayer train is pulling carriages behind it,
the Carriage of Redeeming, the Carriage of Salvation, and the Carriage of
Enigma is there too. Behind the carriages are coal trucks, loosely tied but
juddering along the track regardless, the Heartless Truck and the Truck of Over-Indulgent
Ego. The Truck of Over-Indulgent Ego laughs in a familiar voice, and from it
leaps a big bad wolf with Kid Dynamo's face, chasing the piglet and heckling it
about its roots. Where did it come from? What has it done in its tiny
existence? The piglet only snorts, as piglets are wont to do. I�m the wrong piglet to be dragging up history with, Dynamo. No matter
how many tapes you�ve watched, no matter how many win/loss records you�ve
poured over, you cannot prepare for the Jackrabbit that walks into Funeral of
Hearts. Because that Jackrabbit is not in those videos, that Jackrabbit did not
accumulate the wins you belittle and the losses you accentuate. That Jackrabbit
was a victim.. You say I rode coat-tails; I didn't ride coat-tails, Dynamo, I made
FRIENDSHIPS! And I turned those
friendships into a shared success, a story of co-existences and camaraderies.
But friendship is something you know nothing about, because friendship requires
having a heart. And so it doesn't surprise me a tiny bit that you understand so
little of where I've been. You say I never stood on my own feet; and in that,
maybes you're right. For years� Jackrabbit followed Talon, thinking himself an
equal, thinking he was understood by the big scary man, by his bestest friend in the whole wide world... But Jackrabbit
was a kiddy, a dependant, HE WAS A CHILD! For years� years Jackrabbit was an
ally, a confidant, A FRIEND! I wasn�t riding the coat-tails of Talon, we had
dreamt of Fusion since we were� we were children. I was PROUD to stand beside
him as a Tag Team Champion! YOU RUINED THAT, TALON, YOU MADE ME YOUR VICTIM! I wasn�t riding the coat-tails of Doc Holloway, I was thrust into that
situation by beating four of the OWF�s best at Pool of Blood, and I was PROUD
to stand beside him as a Tag Team Champion! BUT YOU WALKED AWAY, DOC, YOU MADE
ME YOUR VICTIM! At Funeral of Hearts there is no one to stand beside� and Kid Dynamo,
you will feel the full brunt of Jackrabbit standing ALONE. I will not be your
victim any longer, Dynamo, this time it's MY turn to be be
the Big Bad Wolf. And mark my words, you will quickly wish that this WAS a Tag Team
match, you will wish I could tag out and leave you to the mercy of The Enigma
or the Doctor. But there will be neither at Funeral of Hearts, instead you will
be at the mercy of the OWF fans. They will cheer me, Dynamo, a sound you once
cherished but now have lost- they will cheer me because they believe in the
Fate that has been Made for me. One dip in the quicksilver river is all I need
to see YOUR fate though, Bradley. Your fate isn�t to return to the
dysfunctional soap opera that is your home life. Instead you will do to them
what you have done to all of us. You will make them YOUR VICTIMS! And like the OWF
fans did in November, Hestia will break her conditioning and will turn against
you, Angel will divorce you in heart as well as in life, and Kem� poor, na�ve Kem� for her
sake, go home, Dynamo. Go home and take your daughter with you� before she too
opens her ever-widening eyes. Because if you don�t.. if you let it become too late.. then I will
introduce you to your Fate; to fall at Funeral of Hearts, to grant the OWF the
vengeance it deserves for your betrayal. To be� MY victim.. Kid Dynamo wolf has cornered the
piglets in a station akin to a Hummer H2, and he threatens to kill them by
talking them to death extensively about how important he is. Jackrabbit piglet
is alone now, but he does now buck, he does not cower.
And with a deep breath he blows against the Kid Dynamo wolf as hard as he can
until it pops, exploding into a shower of cattle manure. The EJ Slayer train
laughs to see such fun, a long maniacal laugh that sounds around the
MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Nevada.
February 14th 2014 17:43 St Luke's Medical Centre, Phoenix, Arizona The incessant beeping of various
monitors and apparatus was enough to drive Vanilla insane. Assuming she wasn't
already insane, of course. She'd considered that possibility more than once.
Meeting JR had given her a whole new perspective on "insane" though.
A single episode of OWF Addiction would do that to a girl. Lying in a low-rent hospital in
Phoenix Arizona was absolutely not how she'd expected to be spending
Valentine's Day this year. But she had never really celebrated the Patron Saint
of all things gag-worthy anyway, so it was no big loss. Still, the sooner they
discharged her the better. They'd got to the hospital fast
enough to get the bullet out and stop the leg wound getting infected. The big
black man, who'd she later learnt was called Jed, had insisted that going to
the nearest
hospital was taking a massive risk. Tero
Haber was bound to search the nearest hospitals once he realized Vanilla had
been shot. But she'd screamed at Jed until he changed his viewpoint on that. To both her's and Spyke's surprise,
he had stayed with them at the hospital. He'd seemed to make it a personal
sticking point to see Vanilla discharged and back on her feet. In that time,
they'd had a chance to talk with their mysterious savior, but he had guarded
his secrets pretty close. He was an old friend of Stevie's, apparently. They'd
come up together in some sort of initiative; it sounded like it could be the
Army, or maybe the Marines, though Stevie had never mentioned working in the
Forces before. "Hi
honey, I'm home!" The door swung open and
Spyke sidled into the ward. He was wearing a loose shirt over a black tee, his
torn jeans from the train yard finally replaced with pristine ones from their
motel room. He dumped a duffel back down by the bedside. "Was that the cheesiest line you could think of.." Vanilla asked, off-hand. "Yeah,
probably. But I can make up for it.. I grabbed some of your fresh clothes and
stuff from the motel." "Nice." "And
some candy too. But don't tell the nurses, I'm pretty sure they're trying to
kill you with that gloop they're serving.." She gave a hint of a smile. It really
did taste awful. "I
didn't know you were a fan.." he gestured at the
swinging monitor hung over her head, showing a replay of the Bulls vs. the
Lakers. She'd had to pay credit in advance to get a working TV in her ward; Jed
had footed that bill, along with the medical payments. "Oh, I'm not. It's just on. They don't even have Wi-Fi here." "We're
in Phoenix, cupcake. What did you expect?" She expected Wi-Fi. It was
important that she checked her messages, checked her emails and her Facebook
daily. "How is JR doing?" she asked, biting her
lip. There'd been a piercing there once, back when her and Spyke had been an
item. That felt like ancient history now, after everything that they'd all been
through. "He's
fine. He's with that Jed guy and his dogs." The old
black guy with pitbulls named after Shakespeare
bit-parts. "And Stevie?" "Still
no sign of him. So, I was thinking.." "Did it hurt?" she laughed at her own
joke, which really wasn't very cool but it amused her regardless. He kept a solemn
look though. "Hey,
I'm serious. We've come a long way these last few months.." "Well yeah, Spyke.. Idaho, Anaheim.. Hah, do you remember that time
in Seattle when JR said.." "I
didn't mean the places, V! I meant like.. us.. You and me.." "Yeah, I guess. I used to hate your guts.." he'd deserved every damn second of it, too. He'd made
Vanilla feel like the fourth most important person in the world� fourth behind
drugs, booze, and whores. "Uh
yeah.. exactly! And we've come so far from that, that I just.." "Do you think these stupid wires can come out now?" She leant over to pull at the
strange see-through wire still hanging off her leg. When she looked back, Spyke
was holding a ring. "I
realize I can't live without you, and it's Valentine's after all... So, uh�
will you marry me?"
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