She stood before the majestic building. It’s height and design was a sight to behold, windows lined the walls, all were dark, except the very top, the widest, tallest one.

But what she didn’t know, was that he was standing in front of that same window, waiting. She sighed and adjusted the messenger bag on her shoulder.

She ran up the stairs to the front glass doors, which were locked. She shot at them with the two guns she gripped in her hands. The glass shattered on impact, shooting off in every direction and leaving a passage way.

She walked straight a head, ignoring the demands of security guards, which were now in front of her. With the remaining bullets, she shot all that she saw, still walking towards the elevator.

The bodies lie, strewn over the floor like discarded dolls, some blocked her way, leaving her to step over them. Once she reached the elevator, she turned and pressed “10”. The doors closed in front of her.

She emptied the clips in her guns and replaced them quickly, her adrenaline going as she watched the elevators go from

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to restore her breathing and control her nerves. She couldn’t back out now, her memory wouldn’t let her.

The elevator stopped immediately, causing her eyes to jolt open.

This wasn’t her stop…

Sensing an attack, she crouched to the floor and took cover. The doors barely had chance to open before the guards began their assault, firing their guns at the slender entrance.

She waited for a cease-fire, and when it came, she took her chance, exploding out, guns blazing, shooting through the smoke and running back to the elevator.

Immediately after she’d pressed “10”, the doors couldn’t close fast enough before a bullet fired in and grazed her cheek. She fell to the floor in pain and shot through the doors until they closed.

She tended to her face with one had and reloaded with the other. Apparently, not all those guards on the first floor were dead or at least lived long enough to call for back up.

The elevator jumped to a stop a second time, but this time it was her final destination. She quickly replaced the gun in her right hand with a slightly bigger hand cannon.

Nothing, quiet, just plain white walls and floor. At the end of the hall, two heavy doors shielded her target. She walked slowly down the long hall and stopped right in front of the doors. Then, suddenly, she kicked them open, and scoped the room and saw that he…wasn’t there. The room was empty, which was a weird way to describe it, considering its furnishings.

She sighed, and turned only to see him standing in the doorway, gun in hand, wearing a sardonic grin.

The picture fades and is replaced by the shot of a rundown car dealership, with all its low budget glory and loud, spastic banjo music. Damn commercial timing has no timing at all.

Dylan’s face twists with disbelief and disappointment. How can they let Crazy Larry fuck up Flower of Carnage?

A smiling cowboy points back her.

The T.V. screen shows zooms of his lot and random cuts of him do-si-dohing with customers and co-workers as Crazy Larry reassures: “And if anybody’s got better deals than me, my name’s not KUH-RAY-ZAY LARRY!”

She flips channels for awhile, giving up on watching a movie on basic cable. She makes the rounds, stopping at channels she usually watches. She stops at VH1 for some reason. Some flashy graphic plays as a male voiceover explains the hoopla:

From the people that brought you: I Love the 80’s, I Love the 70’s, I love The 80’s Strikes Back , The Best Week Ever , I love the 90’s , A to Z…and all those other crappy shows that you don’t like to admit you watch, but catch yourself doing it anyway…

Dylan rolls her eyes as Some No Talent D-List Actor/Comedian drolls on: “So, like, yesterday was a Tuesday…and it rained ALL day! I felt like building an ark, it was raining so much.” This fucker should’ve drowned.

She then flips to the local news were a graphic shows a sketch of a woman with messy hair and a tired look. A female newscaster speaks over it.

“…5’7, with dark hair. She’s more than likely wearing a tailored suit with reportedly, red splotches. These splotches are believed to be blood from the scene. Also, she’ll be toting a black roller suitcase. This suitcase is suspected to contain her boyfriend’s dead body, which has still not been found.”

How Tarantino.

“More on that later. Now, in our ongoing series of health concern awareness: Smoking, facts and fiction. Are these companies telling the truth or just blowing smoke?”

The weather today is calm, but the air is full of bullshit.

That reminds her; her last pack just ran out. Time to go shopping. She clicks off the television and rises, stretching. She grabs her keys and closes the door behind her. She smiles remembering a clearance sale at KA-BOOM. Nicotine and doodles; there’s a day.