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Within an hour or two it would be cast away, nothing more than a prop, a tool needed for the completion of his task. Instead, his emotion was a contorted mass of competing feelings, each just as strong as the others, all demanding to be realized and acknowledged. Anger, hatred, vengeance, even a bit of sorrow, all wrapped into a tight package and hermetically
forward a few inches before settling back onto its chassis. The moment it came to a rest The Kid jammed the gearshift into park, needing both of his hands free for what lay ahead. Sweat beaded across his brow as he sat in the driver’s seat, thick sunglasses on despite the late hour. Their purpose was explicitly for this moment, meant to protect his vision as he stared into the rearview mirror,
square lamps before jumping to the opposite side. Above them a pair of silhouettes could be seen seated in the front seat. On the right was a short, squat man, his bulk dominating much of the space. Beside him sat a man so tall the top of his head was hidden from view, as if jammed into the hood of the car. The Kid felt his
reaching across and taking up the second of the matching pair. Keeping his fingers outside the trigger guards, The Kid squeezed the handles on both tightly, the muzzles for each pointed in opposite directions as they rested across his thighs. Veins stood out on the back of his hands as he stared down at them, feeling the reassurance
