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She grins like an alligator, showing every pearly tooth behind red lips. "Sounds like my group of people. It probably beats almost getting eaten every time you go to work. Or getting your ass smacked when you go do your other job."
 
"Eaten? what do you do? wrestle with tigers?" He gives a soft laugh and turns down East Arizona street.
 
"Ha! If only. You could eh, say, well, I kill big fuzzy wolves with diseases. And bartend. Which isn't much better."

So, how the hell does one come out and SAY "Yes, I kill vampires and werewolves. I also take a powder that lets me kill ghosts." Way to come off as a fucking looney.
 
He got the meaning of fuzzy wolves.

"Uh-huh, I see. Well, we're here."

The shadowdragon walks to a solid brick wall and gazes around to make sure no one but them was watching. Then he makes a quick rap with his knuckles on the bricks in a sequence of three, five, one.

The brick wall slides away to reveal a door.

The warrior smiles and knocks on the door.
 
"Yeah, well, it's a living."

The door opens and he steps inside. "At ease sharktongue, she's a friend."

Shadowdragon bows and motions with his hand. "After you."

The inside is decked with gold and silver and marble. There are red carpets on the floor, a couple of chairs, plants, a few paintings like a reproduction of "The scream". The ceiling is decked in white with yellow trim and spots of purple stars. The side walls are decked with a light orange and green color.
 
Chapter 3: This just in...

"Damn good job, Rekkenmark!"

The editor showed a print of today's papers, fresh off the presses. Lex's harrowing ordeal at the coffee shop, along with the pictures he took of ninja-boy and goth-girl and their daring escape. Of course, he had to be truthful that the whole thing stunk of a set-up.

Lex wrote the story from his own perspective and quoted a few other patrons of the coffee shop, including a couple of the baristas. You got the usual professional witness comments. Everyone was shocked to learn the story was going to be in today's paper.

Ninja-boy and goth-girl's faces were going to be all over the city (and possibly the state) by the end of the day. That gave him a bit of satisfaction considering the snide comments of the green-haired, low-class bitch. They were square on debts for now: she insulted him, he made her famous.

That day at the gym, Lex took out his frustration on punching bags and sparring partners. Afterwards, he hit the range with his snub-nose .38 Special and his .357 L-frame. His friends often joked him for being too old fashioned, but he grew up firing his cop stepfather's revolvers and they felt comfortable.

"Not bad, Lex." Angie smiled, looking down-range at his silhouette. She touched a button and called it. Lex had an almost perfect grouping, with 5 shots being center-mass and one shot being in the neck. "What happened with the neck-shot, Lex?" Lex shrugged at Angie, "I didn't reorient from recoil for the last shot."

He chatted with Angie over the benefits of the 120-grain .38 Special +P ammo over the standard version. Lex couldn’t keep his mind off his story. He had to admit to himself that he hit the gym and the range to bone up on his protection skills. Sometimes, it was hard being a reporter for a reputable news paper.
 
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