Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

=='''First Impressions'''==
==='''Arrival'''===
She had walked into town six months earlier. It was a busy place, unlike anything she had seen in her travels. Certainly, it was unlike her home. That was something she could never explain to the people she met here. They would think she had just arrived. Her explorations had been low-key, like a lost puppy. Other cities. Learning languages, manners, cultures. She had to fit in when she got where she was going. Little things went away or were replaced.   In time she was ready for the job at hand.

The heavy guitar case needed to look like it was once well cared for, but time and rough living had stained it. Covered in travel stickers she had collected. It was unusually thick since it carried her 6 string bass guitar, a 6 string Fender lead, a ukele, a recorder, and a piccolo.  It carried more then that but no one was going to see that.

Her backpack looked like something used a decade ago, large and deep, a grown man's hiking backpack but its hidden depths made it worth it.  It was big enough for the beatup gear it carried as well as its necessities and treasures. Paper money and a few gold coins. Her pack had a few practical items. Notebooks filled with songs and music. A cellphone with more music than she had ever heard, but her father had insisted. If she had left it behind, she would have been running away from home. If she took it, she was just traveling. 

Her jeans were patched and fraying, her loose shirt faintly smudged with dirt.  Her hair—that was a crime, cut and dyed blue, but it was necessary. Less bathing. Her mother would have been annoyed to see her.

The careful disguise had worked well enough: she looked the part of the drifter, the runaway. But under the surface was something sharper, something the average observer wouldn’t see. A hunting knife hung on her belt, and deeper in her pack rested her father’s .45 and ammo—a weight she carried with purpose. She didn’t plan to use it. But then again, planning wasn’t always her strong suit.

She found a shady spot under an oak tree where she could see the musicians take turns performing. The crowd’s reactions told her everything she needed to know—who played for passion and who played for desperation. Gadget leaned against the tree, watching, listening, and feeling the pulse of the park.

It wasn’t long before someone noticed her. A boy, maybe the age she portrayed, with unruly hair and a guarded expression, walked over and sat down beside her, uninvited but not unkind.

“Hey,” he said, nodding toward her guitar case. “You looking to play?”

She hesitated. “Yeah.”

“Well, just so you know, in this stretch, Tiffy’s up now, then I’m next, and Jax gets lunch. Cali is missing, and we are worried about her. Holden would be after her, but he hasn’t shown up today. After that, it’s you, if you’re still here. We’ve got a system.” He smirked faintly, but his eyes were serious. “We all gotta eat.”

“Got it,” Gadget replied, her voice measured. She didn’t need to explain herself yet.

“I'm Eddie. Edwardo, technically,” he said with a half-grin. “Parents thought it was funny. And you?”

“Do I find it funny?”

“What’s your name, new girl?”

“Gadget.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? People usually pick something easy, like Gail or Ginger.”

“Gadget’s fine,” she said, unmoving. “Nice to meet you.”

Eddie shrugged. “Suit yourself, Gadget. You new to the city?”

She nodded. “More or less. Wandering mostly. Stayed at the mission for a night.” She paused, shuddering. “That place isn’t what I expected.”

Eddie gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, the mission’s rough. Better to stay in the open if you can. But, you know, stay visible. Shakers come out when you’re alone.”

“Shakers?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shakers are takers,” he said, gesturing toward the park’s edge. “They roll in, act like they belong, and take what’s ours. They don’t care if you’ve got a spot or if you’re trying to eat. Stay sharp, Gadget.”

She nodded, filing away the warning.

Eddie continued, “Listen, you can wander off if you need to, but be back when Jax is done, or someone else’ll jump in. Holden’s been known to push his way in, but if you stand your ground, he’ll back off. He respects the system, even if he pretends not to.” 

“And Cali?” Gadget asked, catching the name from the murmurs earlier.

Eddie frowned. “Cali’s...well, she hasn’t been around. Missed a whole week. She’s in trouble, and we haven't been able to find her. Till we hear something, she’s gotta sort it out herself. That’s how it works.”

Gadget didn’t reply, but her mind turned. Trouble had a way of finding people like her, and she wasn’t sure yet if Cali’s story would intersect with her own. For now, all she could do was wait. And watch.

The guitar case at her side felt heavier now, but not with dread. With purpose. If the park was a stage, she’d play her part soon enough.

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=== '''First Day at the Plaza'''===
She listened to Eddie play for the mid-morning crowd as they cut through the park, going from one tall building to another. He was as good as she remembered. Though maybe not quite as good yet. Style would come in time. Besides, it was Tiffy who blossomed, if they survived.

Eddie had come over to her earlier. “Ah, Gadget. You said you’ve been wandering around? Don't wander south of here. Bad area. Forty Thieves... Actually, the Forty Threes, 43rd Street gang. Fucking takers. Over by the river is a nice place in the summer. Cold as hell this time of year, but there’s a more or less permanent encampment of old timers there. The city comes through and cleans it up sometimes. Gives them time to get their valuables out, then trashes whatever they had been living in. Twice a year. Shows the uptowners they are cleaning the place up. After that, some do-gooders come by and drop off new tents, mattresses, and blankets. The hawks stay away from there because the police got no concern if one or two kiddie pimps end up in the trainyard. Some of those old timers are ex-military and ain’t shy about it. But, some are almost as bad as the hawks. They won’t rent you out, but they will trade warmth for wetness, ya know. Better off finding a squat.”

“You and Tiffy got a squat?” Gadget asked.

“Yeah...but...it’s tight...sorry...I can't help with that. The East industrials by the train-yards have a lot of junkies and packs of wild dogs... You can sleep there, but the temptation is too strong for people. Temptation to use, temptation to steal.” The usual crowds went back and forth with little or no regard for the desperation they passed through. They thought themselves generous if they tossed the change from a six-dollar cup of fifty-cent coffee.

Eddie wandered over to sit as Tiffy finished her set. Gadget wondered if they thought of it in terms of 'Set' yet.

Eddie started playing. Riffing really. Loud, to get attention. He had endurance, Gadget thought.

A couple of hours went by, and Gadget spent it looking over the place, walking around, and getting a feel for the square and its regulars.

A coffee shop, a waitress looked out the window at the buskers sadly. Grief and gratitude. She had escaped the life. A newsstand. No reading. A fat man watched a little TV and collected money. He thought he was sly to slip alcohol from a flask into what was probably coffee.

A Little Caesar’s Pizza. Classic cardboard pizza. The clerk. Another survivor. A paycheck away from being on the street again. Squats. Can’t make rent.

A laundromat. Customers only. A walkway to the parking lot.

A liquor store that looked like a prison with bars and locks.

A big youth came running like he was being chased through the plaza. No one behind him.

He ran past Eddie and Tiffy. Jax had already gathered his blanket and put his arm through loops and was moving. He jumped down stairs only to stop. Tiffy and Eddie were almost up when the runner came walking over to them, hangdogged.

Up the stairs came four guys and a girl. Toughs. Shakers for sure. Their clothes only looked a small bit better than the people they shook down. They walked straight for the three.

Suddenly, she felt a shoulder hitting her from behind, walking past. A big guy, 19, scared and cruel. A follower. He looked back at her, saw the guitar, “I don’t know you. Tax ya later.”

He walked to the top end of this part of the plaza. Another coming in from the parking lot. Jax walked ahead of him, being pushed.

Behind her, two more. The ones the runner was fleeing from. Into their trap, it seemed.

Gadget touched a knob on her hearing aid, and she heard better.

The big guy in front. Army boots. New. “I don’t give a fuck, Eddie. Starve. Fork it over. Hey, Tiffy, you can keep your money for a little help with handsome.”

Eddie scowled, stepped between him and Tiffy, bravely but foolishly. He handed over a wad of bills.

“That’s both of ours...a day’s work, Wart.”

Big Wart... Good. Now I’ve seen him. “Not for me, it wasn’t. All fun. Maurice will fork over a couple hundred for a couple hours with Tiffy.”

Eddie said nothing, smart for once.

Jax said he hadn’t played yet, he didn’t have any money. Wart’s number two grabbed Jax’s bongo drums, and the two struggled. Eddie intervened and got a punch in the face from Wart. Little Wart held Jax’s drums.

“That was stupid, Eddie. Jax, five bucks, and you can have your drums back for tomorrow. Or wet trade. You know where we will be.”

Lastly, Wart turned to the runner. “Holden, you are the stupidest fuck I know. You got taxed, and instead of just playing elsewhere, you tried to warn Eddie and the Stone Benches group.” He said it with an air of mockery.

Gadget smiled for other reasons when she heard Wart’s jab. She was in the right place and time.

Wart laid a smack across Holden’s face, and Little Wart punched him twice in the belly as he fell.

The shakers moved along, laughing. This couldn’t be the only way they made money. Shaking down buskers. Cali... They had her someplace. Making money off  her.

Tiffy started crying after the gang had gone. Jax, probably only 13 himself, started sniffling, trying to be tough. Tiffy must have been 14. Eddie would have been 16. Holden 17. Cali would have been 13, if she lived.

Walking over, Gadget heard without the spy ear.

“Those assholes,” Eddie said.

Jax said, “Let’s see if Dearly will spot us a blue plate special or two... it’s been long enough.”

Eddie shook her head, “Can’t. Bossman is there.” Jax whimpered.

She walked up, “Those are the takers?”

Eddie nodded, “Not their name... Just Wart’s guys. They got you, too?”

She shook her head, “That big guy said he would tax me later.”

Holden said, “That’s Waldo. Wants people to call him Eastwood, but Waldo is his name. Big, tough, strong, and mean. One of Wart’s muscles.”

Eddie put his arm around the whimpering Tiffy.

“We ate yesterday. Holden? Jax?” They both shook their heads.

Gadget said, “You all squat together?” Eddie looked at her, confirming, thinking they had to find Cali.

She said, “If I can squeeze into your squat, I’ll get pizza. A couple from that place.” Pointing to Little Caesars. Jax looked at her, then Eddie. Holden looked too. Silent agreement.

“Alright. We should go. If we set up again and start playing, they’ll come back. Today is over.”

Gadget said, "Where do I meet you? I have an errand to run before getting food.”

Eddie gave her directions for four blocks away. “You’ll see a tall water pipe on the side of a building. Painted blue. Hit it a few times, and one of us will come get you.”

She nodded. “An hour at most.”

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==='''Observations'''===

Gadget walked back into the square to get her gear, the familiar rhythm of the park unbroken by the earlier scuffle. People moved about as though nothing unusual had happened, their lives tuned to a frequency that filtered out the kind of trouble she had just witnessed.

She had seen this before in other cities: a practiced indifference to the small tragedies that played out in the corners of urban life. The regulars had walked past the shakedown, unconcerned. Not their problem. Not worth their notice. Even the lack of music didn’t seem to faze anyone. The world kept spinning, and the square moved with it.

Her first stop was a liquor store tucked into a crumbling block of mismatched businesses. The door jingled as she entered, and she felt the clerk’s eyes snap to her immediately. His stare followed her down the rows as she browsed. Gadget ignored him, picking out a flask-sized bottle of whiskey first, then a larger one to refill it. She added a handful of tiny bottles at the register, their colorful labels gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light.

The clerk leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression dripping with disdain. “Are you high or just stupid?” he sneered. “Alright, let’s do this. Everyone sing along—*La la la! I have to see some ID!*”

Unbothered, Gadget pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her pocket and laid it on the counter, meeting his gaze with a calm, steady intensity. “Even if I kept the change,” he added, “it’s not worth it without ID.”

She sighed, pulling a slim wallet from her jacket. Opening it just enough for the clerk to see, she watched his eyes widen. The disdain melted into something closer to disbelief.

“Ah... really?” he asked, his tone shifting.

She tilted her head slightly. “I can depend on your keeping it a secret?”

He nodded quickly, his earlier bravado gone. He took the money without another word, bagging the bottles with newfound precision. Gadget took the bag without a thank-you, already moving on.

Her next stop was Little Caesar’s, the faint smell of grease and cheap cheese filling the air before she even entered. The bored teenager at the counter barely glanced up as she ordered four $5 pizzas. She stacked the boxes into a canvas bag, not bothering to align them perfectly. As the bag settled, the pizzas slid, the cheese and toppings undoubtedly pooling at one end of the boxes. She didn’t care. These weren’t about taste.

The park waited as she walked back, her steps deliberate and her mind turning over what came next. Her earlier encounter had shown her more than she expected—not just about the park’s pecking order but about the invisible lines drawn between those who were struggling to survive and those who chose to ignore them. She wasn’t sure yet where she fit into this city, but she’d carve out a place soon enough.

The liquor and the pizzas? They were tools, not comforts. Small investments in goodwill, in leverage. She wasn’t here to play by the rules. Gadget didn’t play by anyone’s rules but her own.

The alley was narrow and quiet, save for the distant hum of city noise. The faint tang of rust and damp concrete filled the air, mingling with the aroma of greasy pizza wafting from the canvas bag Gadget left on the ground. Her ears tingled with the primal electricity of the moment, a sensation she had come to trust. The hunter had become the hunted, and she was more than ready. She set down her guitar and her bag.

[[File:Waldo.jpg|200px]]

Waldo strode into view, his swagger full of self-assurance, the kind that only came from countless successful shakedowns. He grinned as he saw her, his eyes scanning her up and down like she was already his.

“Well, I didn’t think taxing you would make me rich! Booze and food. Fork it over. And any cash you got,” he said, closing the distance without hesitation. Gadget stepped toward him calmly, her expression unreadable. She didn’t flinch as he reached for her with both hands, his grin growing wider as he added, “Maybe a kiss or a fu—”

The rest of the word was swallowed by a sharp, guttural cry as Gadget grabbed his wrists and drove the steel toe of her boot into his groin with the force of a sledgehammer. The sound he made was almost pitiful as he doubled over, but she didn’t stop. Another swift kick sent him crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll.

Before he could recover, she shoved him onto his back and straddled him, delivering two quick punches to his stomach with precision. Waldo gagged, his breath coming in choked gasps. Gadget leaned in close, her voice a low, dangerous growl, her mind reaching out to touch his, instilling fear of her deep in his memory.

“Now, don’t you throw up,” she warned, her tone ice-cold. “All it’ll only make you messy and me pissed off. Look me in the eyes.”

Waldo’s watery gaze met hers, and for the first time, his bravado cracked. Her psyche slammed into him as hard as she could force it.

“You think you’re tough?” she continued, her voice steady but sharp as a blade. “The universe is filled with monsters that wouldn’t blink about squashing you like a potato bug. And I am goddamned well one of them, Waldo. I the apex predator monster around here now.  So... you belong to me. Unless you want me to make sure you never get an erection again. We understand each other?”

He nodded frantically, his face pale.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gadget said, sitting back slightly. “Where’s Cali?”

“Wart has her,” Waldo croaked, his voice hoarse. “He’s got her up at the Station… Passed out last I saw.”

Gadget studied his face for any sign of a lie, then nodded. “The Station. Eddie knows where that is?”

Waldo nodded again, his head bobbing weakly.

“Good.” Gadget stood, brushing herself off. “Now, you go away. Not to the station. It won’t be safe there tonight. Do you understand me?” Waldo nodded once more, trembling as he scrambled to his feet.

She stepped back to her bag and pulled out a pizza box. Opening it, she pulled out three slices and held them out to him. “Here. Just to show I’m not… well, totally a bitch. Remember: don’t go to the station. Don’t tell Wart. And don’t piss me off. Now go.”

Waldo hesitated for a split second before grabbing the slices. He staggered off, clutching the greasy pizza with both hands, his steps uneven but quick. He didn’t look back.

Gadget watched him disappear down the alley, then picked up her bags. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she murmured, “Everyone’s gotta eat.”

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=== '''Squatting'''===

She found the pipe and knocked on it. She waited only a few moments until Holden peeked his head out.

“We were worried you were followed.”

“I was, but it’s okay. Let’s go inside.”

She followed Holden down a short alley to a pried-open side door of an industrial building. The interior showed a lack of traffic. The path made several turns before ending at a dead end. Above were large pipes passing through. Water pipes, probably. On the west wall was a concert poster in a language Gadget did not know.

Those huddled near each other were Eddie, Tiffy, and Jax. A single candle put out light if not warmth. They shivered under blankets, and their breath came out in fog.

They looked up as Gadget entered. Eddie said, “Glad you made it. We were worried.” They looked at the pizza boxes in anticipation.

Eddie went on, “Cali is usually between Jax and Holden, if you don’t mind.”

Gadget moved close to Holden, between him and Jax. She couldn’t tell herself yet, but her pack nature was already forming, even after so little contact. Holden might be the lucky one.

Gadget nodded, taking the top pizza box with the missing pieces, slipping the other three to the group. She pulled out a large bottle of Tabasco that she liberally put on her pizza. The others eagerly grabbed the other boxes. They relished the pizza, a good meal for them. Jax reached for the Tabasco, looking to Gadget for permission. She smiled and handed it to him.

Looking around, the dead end had much to recommend it. Defensible but without an escape route. Out of the elements, sort of. Frigidly cold. Too cold, as she thought about it. It was winter, but the weather outside was hardly cold enough to warrant the cold inside.

“What’s on the other side of the building?”

“Meatpacking plant. It’s why it’s so cold in here. But the squat is too good. Out of the elements and deep enough not to be easy for takers to find unless led here. Holden used to squat here before.”

She reached into her pack and pulled out a small backpacking ring of stainless steel to curious eyes. Popping the lid, she pulled a lighter out and a bit of newspaper. She wrapped coal with the paper and lit it, starting the stove’s fire. The flickering fire caught and warmed the area slowly.

They turned to huddle around the fire in gratitude and surprise. “I’ve been camping a lot,” she explained.

The small area began to heat as they returned to eating. Silence filled the room as they ate. She looked around the space. A bright poster on the wall was in Russian, she thought. Rafe might know what it said. Being a music aficionado, he might know the band anyway. Maybe someone else in the huge Adventure’s Society would know. Time would tell.

While they huddled under blankets that had seen better days, their overcoats were neatly hung for drying. The candle put out light but little heat. Looking up, the ceiling must have had vents somewhere. It was why the space had so little heat. This place wouldn’t do. Not for seven or eight people, as her plans for the group developed.

Gadget stood after they finished eating. “Eddie? Can I speak to you for a moment?”

The two walked out to turn down the hall, out of sight of the others.

“I spoke to Waldo. He tried to tax me, and we came to an understanding. He says Cali is at someplace called the Station.  Strung out and in trouble.”

Eddie cursed, “Damn... damn. The Station? Shit... SHIT!... That’s an abandoned gas station at the edge of the industrial area. There’s a huge dog pack that lives there. Used to be security dogs that went wild when the plants closed. Abandoned warehouses mostly. No one squats there because the dogs are vicious. Probably a hundred of them. The city gave up on that whole part of town. South of the railroad and the freeway. Shit... this sucks.”

“Dogs, you say? Vicious ex-guard dogs and their get, I imagine. Good to know. How many people would he have there, this Wart guy?”

“Five maybe, a couple more. Depends where they are in their raiding.”

“How do they handle the dogs? Will you show me where this is?”

“Carefully, I imagine. Sure, I can show it, but why? Do you have an idea? If we could get them to come out chasing me, you might be able to get her out.”

“Do any of you people fight?”

“Holden can land a punch. Jax can fall down and take them for a while. Tiffy, not so much.”

“How tough are these guys? How long have they been around?”

“Tiffy and I have been here about a year.  Holden a couple of years. Not sure about Jax and Cali, but longer then Tiffy and I. Wart and his guys have been terrorizing people since grade school, I hear. He’s beat us up several times. Beat Tiffy and I pretty bad when we first got here 'cause she wouldn’t put out. Holden hates them. I think he had run-ins with them before. I know some of the businesses in the plaza lock their doors when they wander in. One of their parents is a cop.”

“Okay, show me this station.”

“Ah... okay... if you’re sure.”

She nodded and followed him as they crossed town.

 
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==='''Dogs'''===

Looking over at a vacant gas station tucked between industrial buildings, Gadget saw lights on in the building but none outside. The walls were covered with graffiti. The windows were covered in newspaper on the inside.

Gadget asked, "Will they have a lookout, you think?"

"No idea. But they probably depend on the dogs. When I start running, I’m going to run back the way we came in. Stay away from the dogs.  I'm going to circle around and see if any of them are outside."

Eddie headed off, walking far to the east.  .

She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. “Gadget. Wants and warrants on a Wart and known associates. Especially wants and warrants on an associate named Waldo. Police tours in the area of Third Street and Hunsiker Avenue. Yes.” She lit a cigarette and puffed it while she waited.

“Yes. Alright. Route police at least a mile from this location. Okay. Okay. Okay. And Waldo... Okay. Gadget down.”

She watched for any of the gang members returning.

The air around the vacant gas station grew heavier, the tension palpable as Gadget watched her surroundings with predatory focus. The graffiti-covered walls seemed to close in, the windows’ newspaper coverings adding a claustrophobic feel to the eerily quiet industrial zone. As Eddie vanished into the distance, her instincts prickled with the unmistakable feeling of being watched—or perhaps stalked.

Then she smelled them. Dirty dogs.

The dogs were close, their musky scent mingled with the faint metallic tang of rust and oil. Gadget pivoted, slipping behind a building with a crumbling wall, her heart steady but her senses sharpened. From the shadows, three shapes emerged: large, muscular dogs, their eyes reflecting the dim light like embers in the gloom.

The leader—a scarred, thick-furred savage with torn ears—moved forward first, his posture radiating dominance. Behind him, two slightly smaller dogs fanned out, their growls rising in anticipation. The pack began to circle her, their intent clear.

Gadget exhaled slowly, her father's teachings resonating in her mind. She didn’t run. Instead, she dropped to all fours, her movements fluid, deliberate. She raised her hips, her posture bold and challenging. Her eyes locked onto the leader’s, refusing to break the connection. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the primal, unspoken dialogue between her and the animal.

The leader snarled, testing her, his hackles raised. Gadget bared her teeth and growled low and deep, channeling every ounce of her willpower into the sound. It wasn’t just noise; it was intent, a projection of dominance and confidence that tapped into the primal currents of the canine psyche.

The other two dogs faltered, their growls cutting short as they glanced at each other, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. The leader hesitated, his head lowering slightly, torn between instinct and her overwhelming presence. Gadget growled again, a commanding sound that brooked no argument. The leader stepped back, his defiance faltering under the weight of her gaze.

Then it happened. With a whimper, the leader dropped to his belly, his body language one of submission. Gadget moved forward on all fours, her movements deliberate and measured. She sniffed at the leader, solidifying her claim. The two remaining dogs quickly followed suit, rolling over with their tails tucked.

Gadget straightened and rubbed the leader’s belly, her touch firm but acknowledging his surrender. He rolled to his haunches, sitting obediently, awaiting her command. She rubbed her cheek against him, radiating love of him. Love he had never known till now. "I'll call you Savage."

She greeted the other two the same, feeling them give up their devotion.

Focusing her awareness, Gadget channeled her intent, pushing it outward like a wave. Her thoughts took form, her message clear: “Tell the rest I am coming soon for them. Tell the pack leader.”

The dogs responded instantly, bolting into the shadows without hesitation. Gadget stood and dusted herself off, exhaling slowly. The pack was hers now—or at least, they knew better than to challenge her again.

As the shadows settled once more, Gadget turned her attention back to the gas station. It was time to finish what she started.

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=== '''The Station'''===

A few minutes later, Eddie returned, carrying a half-full 40oz bottle. “No one there. The door is on the west side. Okay... probably won’t be locked. We sneak up. I’ll open the door and yell at them. I’ll throw this bottle of... beer... piss... at them. They’ll chase me out. Especially if I hit Wart. While they’re chasing me, you go in, find Cali, and get her out of there. I’ll run them as far as possible. I’m pretty sure I can outrun them.” He said it uncertainly but with determination.

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

They sneaked up to the station, going around to try peeking in the windows, finding them taped shut. The industrial buildings surrounded the station and shadowed it from the sun. She looked it over and figured it must have several rooms inside. Two bays in the garage. Six empty gas pumps. A good squat.

Eddie shook his head, looking terrified but determined. He reached up and grabbed the door handle, opening it quickly and stepping in.

Eddie looked around the room and saw the surprised look on Wart’s face. "Look! Eddie’s come to sing for us!"

Eddie yelled raspingly, “YOU FUCKERS!!!!! WHERE’S CALI!!!????” He threw the bottle and hit Wart in the chest, splashing him liberally.

Behind him, Gadget stepped in.

The men jumped up as one to chase Eddie. Eddie turned and bumped surprisingly into Gadget.

Gadget put her right hand on his chest, pushing him hard against the door jamb. With her left hand, she raised a .45 automatic.

The young men stopped. Wart said, "I don’t know you, but pointing a gun at me is going to get you slung up in our back room, Blue."

She looked around the room at the squalor. Cigarettes, beer, takeout boxes. The smell of sweat and male testosterone. Somewhere was the smell of desperation and semen. Her hackles rose.

She regarded the men. She could feel their anger. She looked at Eddie, as her hand pressed him to the door-jam. Fear. Shock. Uncertainty.

"That thing looks like a cannon in your hand, you stupid slit. Put that down, and I might let you walk to the bedroom rather than beat you down and make Eddie watch us."

The loud crack of the gun echoed in the room, shocking everyone except Gadget.

Gadget tracked from left to right, putting a round into each of the chests of the gang members. Eddie’s eyes went wide in shock.

Gadget stepped into the room, slowly walking to each man, kicking them for life signs.  Wart was last, looking up in despair. "No!!! Please!!! No!!!" Gadget fired again.

She turned to Eddie, “Find Cali.” He staggered past her, walking past the dead into other rooms.

Gadget moved among them, taking wallets, cash, and jewelry and stashing them in her pack. Weapons she quickly put into plastic ziplock bags and put them into her satchel. She looked over the table and grabbed several bags of green herbs. She walked around the room and found a backpack, looking in she found several kilos of pressed powder.

She stood and went to each of the dead and took a picture of each with her cell phone.

She made a call. "Gadget. Targets Neutralized. Send in the Cleaners."

Eddie came out carrying a limp girl. She was bruised and sweaty, dirty, and clearly had been abused. Nude, of course. He was white as a sheet, a mixture of awe and terror. Gadget stepped to a couch and shook off a comforter. They put her into it, wrapping her.

"You killed them," Eddie stammered, his voice cracking as his mind struggled to reconcile the woman beside him with the efficient, lethal force he had witnessed moments ago. "How could you?"

Gadget didn’t flinch at the accusation. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, her steps even and deliberate. Her voice, when it came, was calm, devoid of the chaos that lingered in Eddie's mind. "How? Efficiently," she repeated, her tone as cold and deliberate as her actions.

The weight of her words struck Eddie harder than the gunshots, leaving him speechless. The horrors of the room behind them—the blood, the screams, the sharp finality of death—clung to him like a suffocating fog. But there was no hesitation in Gadget, no regret in her stride. To her, it was necessary. Clean.

They crossed the empty road, the cracked asphalt beneath their feet a reminder of the desolation that surrounded them. The industrial skyline loomed like a graveyard of forgotten ambitions. Gadget kept her hand on her satchel, its contents jingling faintly—a collection of stolen wallets, weapons, and evidence now safely in her possession. She knew every item had a purpose. Every detail served a larger goal.

Eddie's steps faltered as he glanced down at Cali. Her face, bruised and streaked with grime, remained slack and lifeless. But there was a faint rise and fall to her chest, a fragile confirmation that she was alive. It was enough for now.

"You didn’t have to kill them," Eddie murmured, his voice barely audible.

Gadget stopped abruptly, turning to him with a gaze sharp enough to cut through steel. "Yes, I did," she said firmly. Her tone left no room for argument. "They were predators, Eddie. They thought they were top dogs, apex predators of the scene here. But that’s what happens to beasts when a new hunter shows up. I am the apex predator around here now. I'll do what needs to be done. They preyed on people like you, like Cali. You think they would’ve stopped? Changed? That girl in your arms is living proof of what they were willing to do."

Eddie swallowed hard, unable to look her in the  eye. He knew she was right, but the sheer brutality of what he had witnessed gnawed at him. His grip on Cali tightened, as if holding her closer might make sense of the chaos.

"We’ll get her back to the squat," Gadget continued, her voice softening slightly. "She needs rest. Food. Medical attention. And you all need to keep your heads low for a while. This isn’t over."

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked, his voice trembling.

"I mean that there will be repercussions," Gadget said. "Wart’s crew isn’t the only threat out here. There’s always another predator waiting to take their place. But I’ll deal with that when the time comes."

They resumed their walk, the squat just a few blocks away now that offered a distant promise of safety. Eddie held on to that thought, clinging to it as tightly as he clung to Cali.

Behind them, the gas station stood silent, its sordid history now marked by the finality of Gadget’s intervention. Whatever demons she carried, she had made one thing clear: in her world, survival meant making hard choices. And she was prepared to make every single one of them.

Unseen by the pair and their rescued companion, a pair of white vans pulled up to the station. Men in hazmat outfits got out, entered, and began to work.

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