#pistolerc

     SHE’S  NOT  GONNA  LIE —-  that  cuts  deep,  really  touches  on  everything  she  thinks  &  hates  about  herself.  STILL,  SHE  EXUDES  AN  AIR  OF  CONFIDENCE —-  ready  to  prove  the  world  wrong,  starting  with  the  cowboy.  she’s  quick  to  shoot  a  deadlock sniper  over  the  hills  with  a  bead  on  him,  then  a  few  coming  up  behind  him,  hard - light  lasers  flying  through  the  air  and just  missing  his  face —  NO  MATTER  HOW  MUCH  SHE  WANTS  TO  PUNCH  OR  SHOOT  HIM  RIGHT  NOW,  SHE’S  GOT  A  JOB  TO  DO.  

     “  what’s  that  sound ?  it’s  the  sound  of  me  saving  your  ass  three  goddamn  times.  YOU  TRY  THAT  HORSE  SHIT  AGAIN,  AND  THE  NEXT  LASER  GOES  RIGHT  UP  YOUR  ASS.  “  another  well-placed  shot  finds  a  talon  agent —-  which  is  exactly  why  she’s  here.  “  you’re  the  one  runnin’  your  mouth  an’  talkin’  SHIT  in  the  middle  of  a  mission.  maybe  you’re  the  one  slowin’  me  down. “  TEETH  ARE  BARED,  SHARP  AND  ACCENTUATED  WITH  A  SLIGHT  GROWL  ---  she  won’t  allow  anyone  to  make  her  feel  like  shit,  lest  of  all  some  stranger  out  in  the  badlands  of  route  66.  “  so  either  you’re  gonna  talk  to  me  in  a  respectful  manner  --- “  three  more  hard  light  shots,  all  finding  their  targets --- FUCK !  how  many  of  these  assholes  were  out  here  ?  did  she  seriously  track  that  talon   agent  to  a  whole  fucking  HIVE  of  these  assholes  ?  “  ---  or  you  can  stay  th’ fuck  outta  my  way!  i  ain’t  got  time  to  entertain  your  HORSE  SHIT  when  these  parts  are  crawlin’  with  who  the  fuck  KNOWS  how  many  talon  agents   !  “

     “Woah, wait. Are you a legit cowboy?” He’s sure as hell dressed the part. Did I go a little back in time for a second here? Confusion hits the Spartan for a moment, before he easily shrugs it off. He fights aliens for a living ( not really a living, more for his life than anything else but that’s semantics ), he’s seen weirder things. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

Living in relative seclusion had its perks, perks which had inspired Angela to choose it in the first place. Though it was true her drive to work was longer and her grocery excursions had to be well planned, she enjoyed the readily available solitude. Mostly nocturnal at this point, she spent many of her nights off on her back porch with a glass of wine in her hand--perhaps a book as well, when she was mentally capable. With her house nestled in the middle of twenty three acres of land and surrounded by acres upon acres of woods behind, she enjoyed relative peace, kept company by none other than the moon, the stars, and the occasional wildlife brave enough to venture beyond the treeline.

Tonight was one such night that the mental exhaustion of her previous shift kept her from doing much more than staring unfocused into the trees. Her glass had been filled once already, the pleasant white wine dulling the sharp edges of her thoughts. Clad in a breezy silk slip and sheer robe, she was assured of her utter solitude and safety. These woods were benevolent, her protector. They would not harm her.

A pleasant breeze drifted through the trees. It carried a faint chill, enough to remind the Swiss doctor of home rather than cause discomfort. Cricket song and the rare cry of an owl provided a symphony to soothe her worries and ease her mind. Just as her eyes began to drift shut, however, a howl shattered the tranquility--silencing even the crickets. Angela frowned and sat up, clutching her robe shut at the front. She knew the woods behind her house like an old friend, and she had never heard wolves before. A flutter of fear born of instinct older than she was threatened to turn her stomach.