Back in our main hub of activity, we all stood staring up into the grid, witnessing the electric blue lines fizzling out one by one.

Darkness lay behind the remaining lines of the grid…

…and it was getting closer.

I looked over at Al, who was preoccupied with inspecting his weapons.
“Who’s doing this, Al? Do you know?”

“No,” he said.

“Although,” Zoe chimed in, “I think it’s safe – nay, downright reasonable – to assume that it’s our dear Loverboy here’s old flame, don’t you think?”

“Past experience shows this to be the most likely cause,” replied Al.

Tsering piped up from the kitchen, where he was expertly concocting one of his infamous cocktails. “Unless you guys have another enemy besides her waiting to wear your teeth for earrings.”

“That’s all we need,” I exclaimed. “And is this really the best time for you to be getting hammered?”

Ironically, Tsering’s next words were pretty sobering:

“If this is the day I’m going to die…I want to have the taste of a good martini on my tongue.”