Modern Fairytale

Roars of a hundred motorcycles echoed out from the south gate and reverberated off of Zaron’s broad back.

“How many more races you stuck there for?”

Hands clasped behind his back, Zaron’s intimidating presence warded away a pair of teens looking for a place to sneak in.

“As many as the boss wishes.” His cyber eye lenses flickered to life as he responded to the voice in his earbud. A hologram display of all the nearby security feed filtered across the man’s vision.

“How long are you going to put up with this?” Charge sighed through the Bluetooth as he provided more security intel.

“I don’t have much of a choice — scan down the last three rows of ‘G’ parking.”

“Bull. Just say the word. I could find you a job anywhere you wanted for double what boss pays.”

Zaron smirked darkly as he sifted through the streams of data. “You know Evero wouldn’t have it.”

Charge’s silence spoke for both of them. Cheers rose from the grandstands, and the gate as well as the black sedan Zaron guarded remained undisturbed.

“Two isles down.”

“Grey-yellow Nissan?”

“Run the plates.”

“On it.”

“Did you see the Rover that just parked in VIP?”

“Way ahead of you — Security ping on your six.”

Zaron’s lips pursed in a frown. The sound of quick, angrily marching steps floated out from the tunnel.

“Want backup?”

“No.”

“She’s got a weapon.”

“It’s just one woman.”

“Then you’ll absolutely need back up!”

Zaron inhaled, but stopped short, startled as the woman suddenly appeared, halting abruptly beside him. Something in his chest caught as his downward gaze filled with fiery red hair illuminated by the simulated sunlight.

“…You can’t be here.” Why was she standing so close?

The young woman’s gaze brimmed with rage, and she up-nodded to the car. “This the Koshari car?”

“Zaron? Z?” Charge called over the earpiece. “Man, what’s going on?”

Unsure of what had come over him, Zaron could only manage a nod in confirmation to the woman who had not even spared him a glance.

Engine oil had soaked through her skinny jeans, and had gotten streaked into a hastily pulled back ponytail. Conditioning had him taking quick note of her – her old street shoes, black tank top, the tattoo sleeve down her tanned left arm, how her freckles stood out on her flushed cheeks….

“Hold this.” Her abrupt command followed by the toss of her leather jacket snapped him out of the sudden haze and Zaron fumbled to catch the coat. Then, speechless, he watched as she sauntered up to the luxury sedan. She jumped atop of the hood. A broken steel downpipe in one hand, she set her feet, brought back her weapon, then with a mighty swing brought the bar down with a vengeful CRASH onto the windshield.

“Zaron! Dammit, man, answer me! What are you doing?!”

“…Nothing.”

“Nothing?! What’s wrong with you? She’s tearing into Evero’s car!”

A quiet, very real smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Seven – now eight blows into her assault on the car, the strange woman showed no signs of stopping, and she was beautiful.

“Yeah. She really is.”