Quoted By:
Glass seemed a bit put off when you asked him to be the last line of defense, but he quickly schooled his expression. He probably thought Flint deserved the position, and he was probably right. The big lug could do more damage than any of you combined, and could effectively fight for as long as he wanted to without taking any meaningful damage. And that was exactly why you wanted him on the front lines, pumping out damage and being an indestructible force of nature if everything went to shit.
Flint was delighted at the idea of fighting beside you. It had been a while, and you could both use the exercise.
—--------
15 minutes later, you and Flint were standing in the middle of an abandoned street, with dead cars standing on either side of you. In the distance, you spotted multiple armored vehicles rolling down the street, plowing through cars and just about everything in their path. Neither of you moved as they approached your position and came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road.
Dozens of armed men in pristine black and white suits filed out of the vehicles, pointing their weapons at you and fanning out to cover every angle. Their eyes were scanning the area, looking for any rooftop snipers or traps that you might have laid. They wouldn’t find any until they managed to get past you.
Just then, a familiar redhead stepped out of the truck, giving you more than enough time to appreciate her long, fishnet clad legs. She slammed the door behind her, letting her eyes drift between you and Flint. There was a mad look to those eyes, and something…predatory, you thought. A wicked grin spread across her half painted face and she opened her arms wide, straining the fabric of her open jacket, and drawing your eyes to her barely concealed breasts and the tattoo on her stomach.
<span class="mu-r">“Huntsman! What’re you doing out here?”</span> she asked, as if she were meeting up with an old friend. The twin katanas strapped to her back reminded you that this <span class="mu-i">wasn’t</span> a friendly visit.
You shrugged. <span class="mu-r">“Nothing much. Just out for a walk. You?”</span> you said conversationally.
She placed her hands on her flared hips and raised an eyebrow at you. <span class="mu-r">“Nothing much. Just out for a midnight drive.”</span> she said, returning your shrug and bringing your attention back to her chest. As much as you hated to admit it, the boogeyman of the criminal underworld was looking downright sexy tonight. <span class="mu-r">“It’s an awfully dangerous time for you boys to be out here all by yourselves. Why don’t you let me escort you home, and we can have this little pow-wow at another time?”</span> she offered.
(Cont.)
