Tiny Bullets

Jackson. Sweat on his brow. Weary.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Sasha exploding. Reckless anger. A loose cannon.

Nadia entered the office.

“Is everything okay?” Nadia asked.

Jackson looked pained. He sighed.

“We are fucking sitting ducks!” Sasha said, “Nadia, tell this asshole we need to kill those damn Volkov!”

Jackson sat at his desk. Hunched. Hurt. The Volkov — assassinating the Moorfield. It started with Alice. Now six more had disappeared mysteriously. A body found by the police in the river this morning. One of Jackson’s friends.

“Is there anything I can do?” Nadia said — but realised the question was pointless. Jackson looked at her with sympathy, but shook his head.

“The Moorfield used to be involved with the police decades ago — but now the police answer to the Volkov…” Jackson said, “That’s why they are turning a blind eye…”

Sasha pulled out a cute little pistol from her bag and handed it to Nadia. It was a little dull silver thing. Nadia hesitated — she didn’t want it — shaking.

”Wha—?” She said.

”You are Moorfield now Nadia. We must be ready to fight,” Sasha said.

”J-Jackson…” Nadia said, pleadingly. The gun vibrated in her hands.

Jackson nodded, “It’s not loaded yet… I don’t want you to be in danger… The Volkov are creeps — they won’t hesitate with you.”

He slid over a case of tiny bullets.

“The best thing you can do is to protect yourself,” Jackson said. Nadia sank.