“So, Jacky, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about me maybe getting some work soon?”

   Billy Jack focuses back on Clyde, still giving Shelby the occasional glance and responding, says, “it’s honestly pretty tough to get you on anything with your face plastered on every street corner in the city. What’s someone gonna do when the guy shaking them down is on the news when they get home?”

   “Yeah, yeah. So what, I’m just out of work forever now? You want me to go dye my hair, grow a mustache?” 

   “Nah, nothing like that. I actually have something for you later tonight but you’ll have to keep a lower profile than usual. Could get messy so maybe leave your cute friend at home. Or if you’re really worried about her, I could babysit.”

   Shelby looks kind of aggravated by the comment this time, interpreting it as some kind of belittling, and decides she’s no longer interested. The two talk a bit longer and Billy Jack slides Clyde an envelope before getting up to go back to working in the kitchen. 

   Shelby leans over to Clyde and asks if she can ask a question. “I’m not telling you a damn thing about what you just saw if that’s what you’re hoping for.” Clyde’s bark doesn’t phase her and she instead continues on, “what kind of arrangement do you and Kat have?”

   “The hell kind of question is that?”

   “Like, you guys aren’t together? Just roommates?”

   “Pffft,” he laughs at the question, “she’s a little too aggressive for me, bud, we’re just roommates.”

   “I see, I was just wondering how come you let her beat you up considering what I saw what you did to those sold-“ Clyde promptly covers her mouth with his palm and looks her dead in the eye, his tone serious, “don’t let that mouth of yours get us into trouble, dumbass.” She realizes her mistake and pipes down for the rest of their stay.

   Once he’s bored, he gets up and out the door they go. Next stop is the junk store, Lug Nut’s Nick Nacks Co. About an hour is wasted in this store which eventually ends in Clyde arguing with the manager, Mr. Lug Nut, and being promptly thrown out after being caught trying to steal a celebrity gossip magazine. 

Fortunately for Shelby, she managed to try on a few clothes and was able to walk out with them using money Kat loaned her.

   Once back on the streets, Shelby, having worked up the courage, finally decides to say something after having been silent the whole time. 

   “Have you noticed how empty the streets are today?”

   Almost as though he developed some sort of food-borne illness, Clyde groans as a response and presses onwards aimlessly. Up they come to a glass and window store to which Shelby gives Clyde an aggressive yank to get him inside. 

   “We need to go to this place! Your bathroom mirror looks hideous!”

   “Let go of me!”

   “Come on!”

   Successful at dragging him in, she accidentally shatters a display window pane, leading to a swift and aggressive response from the staff who promptly ban the two for their tomfoolery. 

   Without hesitation Clyde starts hurling insults and threats causing Shelby to throw herself between him and the store staff in order to avoid a serious dilemma. After about two minutes, give or take, she manages to drag him away without causing a bigger stir. 

   The clouds begin to quickly move as they blot out the sun. Seagulls and ravens begin to compete for their songs to be heard. The figure removes his hood and flips the cape from over his shoulder. Immediately, Shelby gets sick to her stomach at the realization that this is a soldier. The man with an eye patch lifts the cape draped over his shoulder and swiftly draws a sword from his waist. Without hesitation, instinct kicks in and she screams and grabs Clyde’s arm. 

   “RUN!”

   “Why? I’m not one to run from a fight!”

   The figure throws some sort of small shining objects into the air. Jumping up, his feet, when landing on each of the tiny shining things, releases a smokey explosion which propulses him forward. Allowing that he fly toward them from the sky like a hawk. 

   Clyde yelps, “Maybe just this once!”

   Making a run for their lives, the two rush back down the street, turn a corner, and dart through a claustrophobia-inducing crevice between two buildings. Clyde turns his head as they run, only to see the face of pure wicked, evil, murderous intent soaring towards them. He sees as he runs, a sword is drawn, which sparks against the walls as he pursues his prey. Clyde, in an effort to throw him off, kicks a trash can over, only giving a few extra feet between as it is slashed in half without effort.

   “WHAT THE SHIT, DUDE!?”

   They’re almost back to the apartment, both are exhausted and running purely on adrenaline by this point. The man has not broken a sweat nor has he blinked, his one eye is dilated and fixed on every move they make. 

   Cars passing through, the two run headfirst into oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding being hit, and straight into a restaurant. They do not hesitate to run by all of the tables, knocking over patrons and waitresses alike, dodging through the kitchen, sprinting across countertops, and finding freedom in the back of the business, a closed off alley with a dumpster and a locked gate. The two stand side by side looking to find a way out but approaching now is the figure. He jumps down from the roof of the restaurant, having not chased them through the restaurant, but having known where they’d end up. 

   Clyde, in one last effort to defend against the attack, grabs a fryer spatula and swings it at the cyclops, only to be disarmed and slammed into the pavement, effortlessly and with precision. Shelby, in total despair, shrieks at the sight of her only companion being so swiftly dismissed. The man approaches her now. There is no time to react, no plan or course of exit. 

   His sword, raised high and blinding from the sun’s reflection, swiftly comes down and to within an inch of her face before being thrown off course. Having previously shut her eyes, she looks and sees Clyde, hanging by the neck of the soldier and repeatedly slamming his fists into the back of his skull in a desperate attempt to defend against the attacker.

 The man, without hesitation, reaches back to grab the collar of Clyde’s jacket and flings him directly overhead and back onto the pavement where he’d previously laid him to rest. The crack heard immediately causes Shelby to jump and leads to Clyde’s newfound unconscious state and definite concussion. 

   The man, having had enough of the games, stands up straight once more and faces Shelby. Trembling in terror, she pleads that he might spare her, that she is innocent, and that she will not tell anyone what she saw. 

   “Just stop talking and let me do my job,” he says, cold and mechanically. 

   With that simple response, she knows in her gut that this is it and there’s no other way around it. He picks her up by the back of her scalp and raises her off the ground. Screaming and thrashing have no effect. His monotone expression and his empty voice show no remorse, no care or concern, only the task that is at hand, nothing else matters to this machine. 

   He lifts his sword, the blade drawn to her forehead, with it, he tips her hat back to see her face. He stares at her without saying a word. She refuses to stop pleading and fighting. The sky turns gray and she sees his skin muted through the fuzziness left behind by her tears, the dizziness from the panic, and the tunnel vision provided by the running and lack of oxygen. 

   “Beep. Beep. Beep.”

   Her eyes widen to the sound. 

   “Beep. Beep. Beep.”

   What could that be? Does this maniac super soldier have a bomb strapped to his chest that she doesn’t know about? The thoughts race through her head and within an instant she feels relief to her scalp and pressure to her knees. He let her go. Fumbling around like a toddler, she tries to gain balance up off the ground to look at her attacker and figure out what’s going on. He looks at her, pulls out a device from a pouch on his waist, and presses the button, ceasing the electronic alarm. Her dumbfounded face looks up to see this figure turning around and walking away. Too stunned to speak, she instead crawls over to Clyde to see if he’s still alive. 

   “Lunch break. You have one hour.”

   “Huh!?”

   Shelby’s abrupt and audible confusion prompts him to respond,

   “Listen, I’m having a really shit day. Just let me go get something to eat.”

   Her heart feels like it’s going to burst watching the man as he walks away. One hour? What does he mean one hour? Is this some sort of game to him? All sorts of thoughts race through her mind, fried as it may be from all the excitement. Nothing to say, she just grabs Clyde and leans him on her shoulder to carry him back to the apartment. 

   The people in the restaurant stare and gawk as she drags him out towards the door. A worker sprints past her and opens the door so she can get out. 

   “Thank you.”

   “It’s no problem.”

   Dredging down the street, she starts to trip over herself from exhaustion. Finally she approaches the apartment and up the stairs they go. Once inside, after about ten minutes on the couch, Clyde comes to and starts trying to get his bearings, all the while, Shelby can’t stop herself from pacing a pattern into the floor. 

   He gives her a dopey look as she panics and asks,

   “Where’s Kat?”

   “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!

Maybe stop walking and start talking.”

   He stands up, lets out a groan from the soreness in his back, and grabs Shelby by the wrist. 

   “What happened,” asks Clyde.

   “The guy, he- he- he said we have one- one hour. “

   “How long has it been?”

   “I- I don’t know. Like twenty minutes?”

   “Damn, dude… you really are one useless bitch.”

    Shelby would be hurt by the statement if the thought of being killed wasn’t weighing heavily on her mind. 

   He carries his slouched stature over to the closet and starts shuffling through piles of things. He throws out one duffel bag and then another. 

   “Help me pack,” Clyde barks. 

   “Pack?”

   “Yes, pack. And make it fast.”

   “Where are we going?”

   “We’re getting out of here!”

   Within about five minutes, they manage to get the packing in order. A sudden noise causes the duo to jump out of their skin, a small object flies in, piercing a perfect hole through the window. Clyde finds it and picks up what appears to be a diamond. Unsure of what to make of it, he stuffs it in his pocket and they make their way out into the hallway and begin heading towards the door. 

   “KRASSHH!”

   The two look at each knowingly and try to proceed quietly out of the framed glass door before footsteps come chasing from behind. 

   The duo burst through the apartment door. A woman pulls up to the stop sign on the corner riding her pink vespa. Without hesitation, the two drop their bags and run towards the woman and shove her off of her ride. Shelby takes the helm while Clyde follows suit, not intending to argue. She gives it the gas as bullets start to wisp over their heads. Clyde turns his head and starts yelling as he sees a group of soldiers outside the apartment firing assault rifles in their direction,

   “Speed up! Go! Go! Go!”

   Their pursuer stands in the upper floor of the apartment and watches them through the shattered glass as they make their getaway. Sighing, he sheaths his sword and pulls out a radio, mashing the button and  declares,

   “This is Vahamet. Suspects got away, over.”