August 30, 2019
Tommy lined up another row of beer cans on the bench. Then he put space between them and himself; he fired his gun. Bang, bang, bang—cans fell over onto the grass beneath the tree.
I looked around. It was evening, so there wasn't anyone around; no one visited this park anyway. Too much activity in the neighborhood kept families away. Tommy firing bullets at empty cans didn't help. What was the point of it? We were robbing a bank, not having an all-out massacre. The gun was for show, right?
"You're up." Tommy turned and faced me. He flipped the gun over, holding it by the handle with three fingers. "Practice."
I sharply exhaled. He knew I didn't want to. I protested all morning. When Mark and Ruben were there, I told them; to remind Tommy that I wasn't shooting anyone. I'd go in, point the gun, and take the money. And shit, I didn't even want to do that.
If they had just let me agree to write a note to slide it over to one of the tellers, it would have been the easiest plan. But they left it up to Shotgun Tommy here.
"Come on." He wiggled the gun. "You gotta practice."
"Man." Stepping back, I folded my arms. "I told you all day to leave me alone. I don't want to do this."
His blond brows lifted. "You want money, right?" he asked. "To save your kid?"
No. He wasn't allowed to use my daughter against me. He didn't know her, didn't know me. He had no right to know about my life, nor did I invite him to do so. "What I need is for you to respect my limits," I said.
"Oh." Tonguing his cheek, he laughed. "Never knew a criminal with a conscience."
"This isn't about having a conscience or some moral code." I looked toward the street. The sound of an incoming car caught my attention. Instantly, I feared the police. If they saw us now, there'd be no robbery. And if I was going to jail, I needed to make sure Maggie was taken care of first. Getting arrested for popping off beer cans the day before wasn't a smart move.
The car came into view. Not the police; a red Camaro with rust around the trunk. I looked back at Tommy. He continued to dangle the gun. "This is about me and my limits. There are some things I just can't do. So I'm asking you to leave me alone with this shit."
Tommy grinned. With three big steps, he closed the space between us. His chest pressed to mine. "Leave you alone, huh?" He held the gun higher and craned his neck to tower over me. "What if I said I won't 'cause I don't give a fuck? How would you feel?"
Anger bubbled in my gut. How Ruben and Mark got into a mess with this guy confused me; he did nothing for us. He gave us a scoop of some money; it had to be more than that. Mark, Ruben, and I weren't perfect and had arrests on our records to prove it. But we never, ever made each other uncomfortable. We were boys. We had each other's back.
"Fuck you," I spat.
"Oh, good." He tossed the gun against me. I fumbled but caught it. When we looked back at each other, he stepped back and pointed at the row of cans he hadn't fired at. "Now shoot."
Because he had fired minutes before, the gun was warm. I looked down at it and observed it; I should be afraid. But no. I wasn't. Wrapping my hand around the gun, I lifted it.
"You see what you can do when you're mad," he laughed. "Ain't no limits when you want to fuck shit up."
My finger settled on the trigger. He was right; I was mad. I was tired of his shit, tired of this plan. At this point, I wanted to drop out, go home, and hug Maggie for as long as I could. But I was committed; too much invested time.
"You're right," I said, gritting my teeth. Anger changed a lot in me. Every time Tommy talked, it got worse. Mixing that emotion with the fear of losing my family, I felt like a ticking time bomb. The beer cans didn't stand a chance. Growling my frustrations into the wind, I fired.
***
Tommy's eyes widened as I approached. He kept his pipe in hand, ready to swing. My computers picked up on the pulses in his head, arms, and legs; he thought of attacking and escaping.
I stood in the way of one of the two. "I'll make this easy. If you tell me what happened to Mark," I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders back, "I might let you live."
"Might?" He snorted but trembled. Laughing couldn't hide his fear. "Man, if you gon' kill me, do it."
I cocked a brow. "Fine," I said, "but tell me what happened to Mark." Pointing at the dirty kitchen behind me, I focused on the exposed pipes, on the grime on the floor. I quickly changed my mechanical eye's vision to blue light and scanned the tile for blood. There were fluids there, probably from a person, but nothing fatal. At least, nothing my computers could detect.
Scowling, I looked back at Tommy. "He owns this run-down house but doesn't live here. Why? Did you make him buy this shit? And why are you," I pointed at him, "living here like a fucking drug addict, huh? Were the two of you here together? Did you make him stay here?"
Tommy didn't snort, didn't laugh. He lifted both hands in defense and side-stepped over the busted, cracked tile on the floor. "You don't get it," he said.
His breathing changed. Switching my vision back, I focused on his heartbeat and the tremors in his muscles. The second I started to talk about Mark, Tommy was terrified. I only needed to know what he did to my friend. If he gave me enough information and time, I could save him from whatever hell Tommy put him through.
Tommy side-stepped again, closer to the wall, closer towards my right. "I don't know what you think you know—"
"I know enough," I hissed.
"—But I didn't do shit. I didn't hurt him. I'm here 'cause—"
Lies. It was all he was good for. He lied about who he was when he first introduced himself to me. He hadn't gone to our high school. Fucker was a good four years older than us. We were children compared to him; we were innocent. He came and manipulated us. He made me dig into parts of myself I hated the most.
He also lied about the security guards' position. He held the gun and fired. That woman bled to death at his feet because he was a monster. It wasn't me. I hadn't done shit. I was innocent. He deserves to pay.
"Adrenaline spike. Heart rate escalating. Two hundred beats per minute. Manual override required."
Red flashed in the corners of my eyes. Beeps erupted in my ears. But I ignored the warning. My nostrils flared as I rushed forward and grabbed Tommy by his neck. He choked and tried to hit me with his pipe again.
The blow landed. This time I felt nothing. No pain. Like a fly landing on a pillow.
"You ruined our lives." I pulled him closer, and my saliva hit his face as I spoke. "You made us carry weapons. You planned that robbery. And when it went to shit, you made them turn me in, didn't you?"
Red lined his blue eyes. His cheeks darkened, almost purple. I loosened my grip enough that he gasped. In a raspy voice, he responded, "No, I didn't. It wasn't me!"
"Manual override required. Error messages were reported. Unable to send diagnostics."
"It was you!" I gripped his neck again, picked him up off his feet, and slammed his head against the wall. He cried out. Seemingly out of reflex, he swung his pipe again. It hit my head, the same side as before. That one hurt. Buzzing, static, pain. I slammed him against the wall once more. "Ruben said it was you—"
Blood slipped down the corner of his mouth. Tears slid down his cheeks. He choked, squeezing his eyes shut. But he didn't move. He didn't fight me.
"He said your name! He said—"
I stopped. All Ruben had said was that Tommy would know more, but that was it. He kept saying 'he' but never tied it to Tommy as if he blamed him but didn't. Was I doing it again? Was I not hearing someone's pain and innocence? He was a monster, yes. But as I let go of his body and watched him drop to the floor, I realized more than before; so was I. Ma, this is more than just poison in my past. It's in my soul if I even still have one.
Tommy coughed against the grey tile, now stained red with blood. He sucked in a deep breath, heaving as he struggled to open his eyes. When he looked at me, I saw him through the red flashes in my eyes. Warnings. Error messages. Corruption.
"I... didn't... do this," he gasped. "I snitched... I did. But... I didn't plan this sh-shit."
"Then who?" I kneeled in front of him. "Tell me who?"
Weakly, Tommy braced himself up on his hands and knees. His blood dripped to the floor. He groaned as the air left his lungs. I waited, watching, trying to detect his next movement. But all I saw was red. "Tommy—"
The angry color blocked his movements as he reached for his pipe again. He forced himself up and swung the metal against my head. This hit was harder. Louder. It rang in both of my ears as pain exploded down the back of my neck.
"Fuck you!" he screamed, reaching back to hit me again.
This time I saw him. And this time, when I grabbed his neck, I turned until it twisted. Life faded from his eyes as the color faded from mine.
"Enhancements are powering off."