All in Another Day’s Work…

Cyrius Day stood against the wall, his Mk8 blaster in his hands, as he looked over at Sage and nodded. Sage, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, smiled back at him as she nodded and gripped her M-12 shotgun a bit tighter. He held up his left hand with three fingers extended and slowly counted down. As the last finger fell, he surged forth and busted through the door, raising his gun up as he crossed from left to right. Sage followed on his heels, scanning the room with the barrel of her gun.

“Gibson Hughes! We know you’re in here. Might as well just come out peacefully.” Sage said as she moved forward toward the only other door in the empty room.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Shouted a male voice from behind the door.

“Could he be more cliche?”  Cyrius quipped to Sage, moving toward the door. As if in response, the wooden door splintered apart as a det-round impacted into it, spraying the room with splinters, shrapnel and smoke. A moment later, Gibson lumbered into the room, his massive frame slamming into Sage, sending her and her shotgun skittering across the floor. Seeing the shotgun, he moved toward it as Cyrius, still dazed from the explosion, raised his weapon toward Gibson.

“Seriously, don’t make me kill you. I really don’t want to have to do that much paperwork.” He said, the gun still shaking in his hands. Gibson stopped, slightly bent over as he reached out for the shotgun.

“You wouldn’t.” Gibson said looking over his shoulder at Cyrius. Cyrius let lose a round into the wall behind Gibson, missing his head by inches.

Shrugging both his shoulders and his gun Cyrius said, “Either way, the Anderian Congress will get their fugitive, I’ll get paid, and you, well, you’re just going to have a bad day, so I guess it depends on how bad of a day you want to have. Breathing is completely optional on your part.”

Gibson, who’s eyes had widened drastically, slowly straightened up to his six-foot, seven inch height. Cyrius gestured with his gun barrel toward the wall, and Gibson moved toward it, putting his hands behind his head.

Sage began to stand to her feet, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand. She retrieved her shotgun and walked over to Gibson, placing the barrel against the back of his neck. “I should just pull the trigger.” She spat out.

“How did you two even find me?” Gibson asked angrily as Cyrius stepped forward, the restraints in his hands.

“You see,” Cyrius started smugly as he attached the first restraint, “catching bad guys is kind of like an art form, and well, I’m just a master painter.” He finished attaching the restraints and turned Gibson to walk toward the exit.

“You’re a master something.” Sage retorted.

He smirked as he looked at her, saying, “Jealousy is an ugly color on you.”

Published by

R. Todd

MFA from the Queens University of Charlotte ('21), BA in English from the University of Central Florida ('17), Group leader for the Florida Writers Association since 2019, member of AWP and ACES.

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