"So... I still have a few things I want to know. Can we sit down?"

"Uh... sure." I replied. We walked over to the living room. There was a TV on the far wall, with a wooden coffee table in the middle of the floor and a couch. Cassandra picked up a coaster as she entered the room and put it on the coffee table. She took a sip as I sat down on the couch beside her.

"You said that James didn't come after you while you were in the hospital, right?" she asked.

"Yep."

"So he was caught?" she asked. I squirmed in my seat.

"No." All of the sudden being shirtless didn't seem like such a good idea after all. I was looking for something to protect me. I looked around the room as I continued speaking. "No he never was. They didn't have much to go on. He closed all of his accounts and sold the house. He quit his job, sold his car under the table. He vanished. Even his Furbook account was deleted." My eyes settled upon a green zip-up hoodie flung over the edge of the TV. It was no bulletproof vest but it would do. I stood up and walked over to it.

"Wait, so you're telling me he's still out there?" asked Cassandra. I looked out my window at the street below. The grey car that had been sitting there all day was gone. A sense of relief washed over me.

"Yes, yes he is." I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the hoodie and zipped up the front. I turned back to Cassandra, then scratched my head. "I... um... well this is another reason why I haven't told you about this earlier. I've always thought it was a 'the more you know the more danger you're in' kinda thing."

"Danger?" asked Cassandra, cocking her head. I sat down beside her once again. "What kind of danger?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I damn well do." Cassandra frowned. "I think I have a right to know what I'm getting into."

"I guess you do." I reached under the coffee table and grasped a handle. I pulled out the item and gently set it down on the table. Cassandra's eyes widened. The offending item was a .44 calibre revolver. Now any gun nut would tell you that a smaller 9mm pistol like a Glock or something would be a much more efficient personal defense weapon. I know this. But when you have a gun with that big of a bullet, well it's for knowing that whatever it hits will be absolutely destroyed a much as it is for actual defense.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Cassandra leaped from her seat and staggered away.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" I threw up my hands and leaned back, away from the gun. "I'm not going to shoot you! It's not even loaded!" That was a lie.

"You have a fucking gun!" Cassandra crossed her arms angrily. "Why didn't you tell me this? Is this thing even legal here?"

"What? Yes, yes it's legal." I gestured at the gun. "I'm part of a handgun club, I got all my licences and registration in order. And you're allowed to conceal carry it when you've had two attempts on your life."

"Concealed carry? Oh my god David, how many times have we been out that's you've - wait a minute..." Cassandra's anger seemed to morph into a mix of both curiosity and anger. "Two attempts on your life? You've had two?"

"Counting the beating I already told you about," I shivered at the mention of it, "yes."

"Well what the fuck happened?"

It was the perfect day for a drive. The sun was hot, and there was no wind nor a droplet of rain on the horizon. The asphalt was practically begging for cars, and it seemed that nearly everybody who had a car obliged. The road was full of people going out to do something. Road trip, vacation, visiting the beach, or whatever else one would do on such a day.

But amidst the crowd of sedans and minivans, one car stood out about the rest. It was massive. The hood was huge and flat. The lifted rear of the car gave it an aggressive stance, which accented the thin rectangular grille that stretched from one side of the car to the other. The paint was a faded red, with rough edges a couple chips in the paint. Its exhaust created a loud but beautiful note as it accelerated, as well as creating a massive plume of exhaust. You could smell the unspent gasoline in it.

Anybody who watched television in the 1970's would have recognized the car, even without the orange paint or Confederate flag on the roof. It was a 1969 Dodge Charger. A massive, hulking beast with 318 cubic inch engine in the front. The driver was just as recognizable. Long black hair, black and tan fur, and the beautiful green eyes made the driver of the car easily identifiable as the German Shepard from the hospital bed. Jack. He was older now; nineteen to be precise. He had grown even taller still, but he had also grown more buff and muscular. Ever since the events in the apartment, he couldn't stand to feel weak any longer. It invaded every corner of his life. Whenever he drank, he drank strait hard liquor. Whenever he worked out, his preferred method of exercise was whatever martial art was being taught at the moment. And when he bought a car, he bought the meanest car he could.

Truth be told, the car was really the only thing he truly enjoyed. Fighting reminded him of the beating, but he used the anger increase his strength. He hated the burn of alcohol and couldn't tell the difference between a scotch and a whisky, but toughing out the burn and taste made him feel stronger. But when it came to the Charger, he actually enjoyed nearly every part of it. The speed, the power, the freedom, the ascetics, and the noise was well worth the poor handling and copious gas and insurance bill. Not that money was a problem anymore; the sum of money his father was ordered to pay was finally found and given to Jack and his mother. Jack wasn't short-sighted; he put away the majority of it for later. But he did buy the car, and occasionally taped into the fund when things got too tight.

His window was open with his arm hanging out of it as he barrelled down the highway. His favourite song probably would have been playing if the radio wasn't broken. The car was mighty cheap, but it was mighty cheap for a reason. It required some tender loving car; tender loving care Jack intended to give it. As he cruised past a tractor trailer at 120 kilometers an hour, he fantasised about what he would do to his car. First of all, replace the engine with the bigger, badder 440 Magnum engine. Then a repaint. Maybe black, with a red trunk stripe. Yes, that would look nice. The interior wasn't in that bad shape but he did secretly dream for replacing the non-functional AM radio with a satellite radio. And a CD player! That old radio was massive, surely there was room, right?

Then something caught his eye. He could see something approaching in his rear-view mirror. A truck of some sort, like an F-150 or Explorer. With a very sturdy looking brush guard. Either way, it was a big grey Ford and it was approaching fast. Jack sped up, because surely that truck would not be able to brake in time. He looked in the mirror again, to get a good look at the dumbass driving it. Jack was expecting a half-crazed soccer mom trying to deal with a rambunctious soccer team.

Instead, he found two men in both of the front seats. Both were wearing black ski masks. Jack's heart skipped a beat. No way. This surely couldn't be happening. This is something you only see in the movies, right? He was just being paranoid.

His surrealism was shattered as the Ford slammed into the back of his Charger. The back end began to wobble. Jack regained control and floored the gas pedal. The engine roared to life. Jack was slammed back into his seat as the front of the car rose slightly. He peeled away from the truck. But soon, he found his path blocked. A minivan driving 100km/h in the fast lane. This time, it was actually a soccer mom. Jack was in the left lane. To his left, the gravel shoulder and concrete barrier. To his right, a tractor trailer blocking his path. Barely enough room for his car to squeak through. He looked in his mirror. The Ford was fast approaching. Jack's heart raced faster than it ever had before. At that sped he would be smashed from behind. And the Charger has no crumple zones or airbags. Just speed. The Ford was nearly upon him. He could see the eyes behind the ski masks. It was now or never.

He cranked the wheel to the right, cutting off the tractor trailer. In response, the tractor's brakes squealed and honked. But the engine was so loud Jack could only hear his own engine roaring. He peeled one more lane over and immediately exited the highway. He breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, blue and red lights flashed in his mirrors. Behind him was a black and white OPP car; a Crown Victoria, to be precise. Jack signaled and pulled over. The cop stopped behind him, then emerged from his car. A massive black stallion. He slowly walked over to Jack and leaned into the window.

"Alright sir, licence and registration." 'Sir' was not said politely. Jack quickly obliged. "Now son, do you know why I pulled you over?"

"For cutting off that semi?" The cop paused before answering.

"So if you knew that was wrong, why did you do it?"

"Look, I was being chased by these two guys-"

"Don't bullshit me, boy." Growled the cop. "Get out of the car." Jack quickly did was he was told.

"Alright, you're being charged with reckless driving and speeding above-"

"Look, I'm telling you these guys just tried to kill me! Look at that dent!" Jack pointed to the back the Charger. "That's fresh!"

"You honestly expect me to believe that?" said the cop. He crossed his arms. Jack didn't listen to what he said next, he could see something in the distance.

A grey Ford.

"Um... sir... he's right there."

"Oh come on. Do you think I'm an idiot? Keep pulling this bullshit and I'm arresting you." The Ford drew closer still.

"I am not kidding! They're right fucking there! They're going to-"

"Listen here boy!" the horse shouted. He opened his mouth to speak. The paused. He could hear the sound of an engine. He turned around to see the Ford barrelling towards them. Jack dived into the ditch, landing in the muddy, oily water. He covered his head with his arms.

He felt and heard a thud land beside them. Then a massive CRUNCH, shattering glass, and squealing tires. Then he heard the engine drone as a vehicle sped away. He looked to the source of the thud. Wallowing beside him in the water was the stallion, who was already looking back at the two cars. Jack turned to face the scene.

The Crown Vic was destroyed. It's back left bumper was caved in so bas the left tire was crushed behind it. It was a complete write-off, with a shattered windshield and lights still blazing. Jack looked back to the cop. They stared at each other in disbelief for a few moments, before the cop pointed his finger at him.

"You're still not going anywhere!"

"They took my statement and filed a report." I said as I slipped the revolver back into its holster, "Then I called the judge. That's when I started got my gun."

"So you think those guys were hired by James?" asked Cassandra.

"I know they were." I replied. "I mean, who else wants me dead? I'm not a drug mule, I'm not in any gangs, and I'm not involved with the mafia." Cassandra sighed.

"So, you're telling me he's still out there and quite possibly looking for you?" I paused before answering.

"Yes. And I know he is looking for me."

"Great. So my life is in danger too." Said Cassandra angrily.

"Well... yes." I stammered. "But I've moved away. I've cut my ties back home. I changed my name. Repainted and re-did my whole car. Hell I don't even have a FurBook account. Chances are he'll never-"

I was cut short my Cassandra grabbing either side of my face and kissing my on the lips. I was frozen in surprise. Wait... isn't she supposed to be angry at me? We pulled away and our eyes met. We stared at each other for a few moments.

"So... you're not angry at me?"

"Oh I'm still angry at you. But the fact that it's dangerous just to be with you..." she grinned wildly. "...it's thrilling."

My heart fluttered.

"So... this is all okay with you? The gun too?"

"Well... that might take some getting to." She smirked, "But I think I could let it slide if I got to shoot it once or twice." I chuckled and looked out the window. It was completely dark out.

"Wow, it's late isn't it?" I broke away from her. "Don't you have to catch the bus?'

"Meh... I've already missed it." She stood up to face me. "I can catch it tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? Where will you..." I trailed off. Cassandra was looking at me expectantly. "Wait, you want to stay the night?"

"Finally," She said shaking her head, "Any longer and I would have hummed the Jeopardy theme."

"Erm... look, this is all a bit sudden." I said. I could feel my cheeks burning. "Maybe we should think about... uh... what I've said tonight before we jump into it."

"Oh come on," Said Cassandra, stepping closer to me, "where's your sense of adventure?" I paused before answering. Was this really happening? Am I just dreaming?Either way, I felt something swelling up in my chest.

I couldn't hide it forever. I answered with a kiss.



(Yeah, I know the ending is really cheesy, but that's what I get for not planning enough. Live and learn.)

