2 months later “You want me to fight you?” Matthew asked incredulously, one brow raised in disbelief. He was sitting on a bench in the training center, watching Sable run for the last half-hour. This was becoming her routine. By now, all the agents were aware of what she was, and many were not thrilled. Every day her mood was becoming worse and he noticed some lapses in her judgment. She was volatile, but he noted it was with reason. On several occasions, other trainees would purposely use excessive force when training with her. She’d been jumped once by a group of girls, who were subsequently hospitalized. And, the sexual misconduct cases with the men were growing. She was also especially extra irritated whenever she had to visit George and the quack scientist dude. He was never allowed to go with them, and she never spoke about what happened when she did. Currently, they were living together in a two-bedroom space on the base. Matthew was annoyed at first but accepted it. Tonight, she was …
A low growl rumbled out of the abnormally large black dog laying at the entrance of the laboratory. George’s eyes lingered at the mutt, and he had half a mind to kick the damn thing, but if he were being honest with himself, it creeped him out. Its heated gold eyes met his cold gray ones. He always got the feeling that there was more to the canine than the crazy doctor admitted. In fact, he was almost certain it was a shifter. It was just as unnerving as the man’s wife. She was a frigid bitch. She spoke very little but once she did it was to cut you deeply.
I didn’t sign up for this shit. Matthew sat on a chair, his head leaning backward, hanging over the edge of his seat. He signed up to kill shifters, not babysit one.
It’s another riveting episode of Love and Facebook VI. So, yall know how this goes, it’s another day of me not minding my business on Le Book, but I made a boo-boo this time. I commented. Yall, who sent me. But let’s get into the nitty-gritty of this short post.
The cage door screeched as it opened, and Marissa wondered if it was her fear that had heightened the sound. While it struggled to completely open, she dashed across the room. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped against the door when whatever was behind those bars came out. She needed room to run and think. At the end of the exceedingly long corridor, the room split off and dim lights came on. Left and right were her only options. She darted to the left and saw another opening on her right. She skidded into it and paused. The next room was a straight path but there were openings on both sides of the walls. She counted 6 on both sides. God, she hoped she wasn’t in a maze.
Guess who’s back, back again, Judgey’s back, tell a friend, and subscribe to the blog because that’s only the right thing to do. Last time, in the Supporting Local series (until I find a clever name for it), we talked about Beast Time Fitness. Today, our focus is Apollo Legion. Apollo Legion made its debut last year and has pretty much taken the territory by storm. Created by jack-of-all-trades Charles Goodings Jr., A.K.A Pollo from right out of St. Croix, the clothing line features swimsuits, bodysuits, polo shirts, shorts, children’s apparel…
Marissa’s gaze shifted slightly, wondering if it was still too late to dive out the window and make a run for it. Maybe Melanie was bluffing and the drop wouldn’t kill her. And if she was some supernatural creature surely, she’d be fine. The hairs on her neck were standing. The room was dead silent. They were waiting for her to give her answer. Though she was focused on her escape, she was also very aware of the men’s bodies. They were prepared to shoot her at the slightest suspicious movement. She did not like her odds at all right now. Even if she could use the window, she’d probably be riddled with bullets before she could jump out.
So I just wanted to share one of my bad habits with everyone. To make things shorts, I don’t fix things, I replace. I’m typing this piece while staring at my cracked iPhone which I am about to replace as soon as my order arrives sometime next week…or next month…whenever the U.S Postal Service gets back to normal following this hurricane nonsense. In case you missed it, the Virgin Islands just went through two hurricanes last month. Two Category five, fuck shit up and move along hurricanes. Irma and Maria. I can’t befriend anyone with those names now because I’m convinced that anyone with those names are miserable, wicked and bad minded. Yall on time-out until January 2018.
Another day of me not minding my business. So it’s a crisp Friday afternoon in September. The 15th to be exact. Hurricane No Way Jose just lashed at us with his tail because he ain’t shit and instead of disappearing he decides to sing despacito on the ocean. He is moving SLOWLY. So you know bad weather creates bad decisions. Like…say…hacking your boyfriend’s facebook page and letting us know that he has hella hoes.
Marissa tilted her head as she regarded the stranger standing across the room. The dark-skinned woman looked exhausted, and there were dark circles under her brown eyes. Her jet-black hair was cut short and hidden under an equally dark cap. The woman held her hands to her mouth, her face covered in shock and concern.