“Shut it down, Scab.” Priss whispered into the driver’s ear. She held the knife to her follower’s throat as she hurdled the seat in her bare feet and planted the second knife into her side.

“Nice blouse. You’re fresh meat. What’s your name.”

“Sylvia”.

“You’re lieing, I can feel your pulse traveling up the blade’s spine, don’t lie to me again. Lieing makes me sneeze, I’m a violent sneezer, It might be you I sneeze to death.”

“Tuesday”.

“Much better, now let’s talk. You casual with that?”

“My ice-cream’s melting.”

“What flavor?”

“Neapolitan”.

“If I can’t spell it, I won’t eat it, sorry for your loss. You’ve got spunk Tuesday, but I’m not letting you answer my bell, it’s mine. I don’t appreciate you letting me do Union grade prep work then move in for a discount kill, I have a habit to feed. Whose sending you out on these intercepts?”

“You know I can’t tell you, and even if I did, I doubt they would trust me with that info.”

“Name’s Priss. My habit is Life. Join the I.A.U. or die. You owe me.”