Silent Partner

Frank never turned. "I got this, partner." Somehow, I heard him. His voice was low, monotone, dead. But somehow, I heard him over the engines and the horns and the panicked screams.

"Yes, partner.” A raspy hiss of a voice, thick with Sub-continental accent. Tattoo-boy. "The Good Sheppard has everything under control." He took a step forward and his gang fanned out. "Isn't that right, Father?" Another step. The chant was getting quicker, rising an octave. The punk's hand dropped casually behind his back. "Say a prayer for us, won't you, Father? Save us from our blasphemies and pagan heresies."

Another boom and Tattoo-boy's knee disappeared. Frank didn't budge. Tattoo-boy tipped over howling something ethnic, before the chant rose to a crescendo.

The others made their move. Half a dozen goblins hopped up on what I hoped was just adrenaline lunged for Frank, leaping at least eight feet in the air. Another boom and Frank caught the next one in the face.

In the face.

The kid spun away as the rest came down on my partner. Hard.





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