Story.Short, page 15, Lee Skidmore's SciFi Site copyright 1996: Story.Short, page 15

"Woman, get up off that worthless piece of meat, and get back upstairs before I smack you," said Terence in a grating inner city slur that slipped out when he was really mad. Negligent in manner, he hadn't wavered a nanosec in his attentions to Johnny.

"But, Sweetheart," sniffed Laurie, "he hurt me. And, and, he's got my heart."

"Okay Zane, slide it over to her."

"Sure, sure. Sorry Mrs. Du Quesne," said Johnny, gently polite without a trace of sarcasim. He carefully slid it to her with a short twist of his wrist, keeping his movement to a minimum. She snatched it up. Slowly, she clip-clopped away, raining tears from hooded eyes.

"You know," said Johnny slowly while he carefully checked his jaw for loose parts, "You ought to be nicer to her."

"Okay you, shut up, get up, and bring him with you. Over there, through the door on the right."

"Hey, he must weigh more than three hundred pounds," protested Johnny, not moving.

"Didn't seem to bother you a minute ago. Get to it or do it carrying a bullet too."

"Okay, okay. Damn," grunted Johnny. He grabbed a thickly muscled wrist in both hands, and pulled hard on the limp arm. A loud pop came from Guillaume's shoulder as his body jerked towards the door. Johnny yanked again. He kept Guillaume's body moving this time. Quickly he backed through the doorway into what appeared to be a small apartment within the mansion. He stopped to drop his load next to a wall made out of television-screen-faced building-blocks. Terence followed closely. As he looked at the real time TV scrapbook of the mansion and its grounds that covered the wall like a patchwork, Johnny said, "So he's the bodyguard. Huh? Who's body does he guard?"

"Thought I told you to shut up."

"Look, I've got to know, how can you be here since you're down at the morgue with one of my rounds in you. A round I didn't fire by the way."

"Shut up. Take that holster off. Toss it over here. Underhand."

Johnny shrugged it off, threw it to Du Quesne who swatted it to the floor with his free hand as he said, "Yeah well, you did fire it, but why should I tell you? You're shark food. I can tell you that with most of the fish gone they are sick and tired of eating garbage. You'll make them a nice treat. So, now we're going to take a little walk down to the ocean."