She raised an eyebrow and stared at the robber, who was looking at her with an incredulous expression. “Are you done now?” He nodded shakily and lowered the guns slowly. But she wasn’t done. This pathetic creep had interrupted her otherwise perfect day, and he’d put holes in her blouse. She was irritated. Melanie nodded primly and snapped, “Good. Now it’s my turn, asshole.” She raised her hand and slashed it through the air. The guns melted in the man’s hands, liquefying and moving like snakes through the air, intertwining with each other before solidifying into a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, crackling with energy as they did so. It was over in less than a second, and Melanie strode forwards, grabbed him as gently as she could by his shoulders and jerked her knee up into his groin as gently as she could. She only wanted to hurt and humiliate him; not kill him, or break him in half. He dropped to his knees with a soprano cry of pain before blacking out. Melanie stood over him. On our second target, our team leader cooked up a diabolical ambush that damn near wrecked the deuce and a half the opposing forces were using as a rolling target. The cadre sergeant on the truck was impressed enough that he threw us down a couple of live chickens, ten pounds of rice and two empty number ten cans. Greg Tomatsu, our unofficial team chef, made some fine chicken and rice soup. We each had a canteen cup of the stuff and still had enough left for each of us to fill a canteen.By the tenth day, our asses were starting to drag. Besides covering a couple of hundred miles during our frequent moves, we were getting less than three hours of sleep a night. On night eleven, we conducted a raid on a bridge complete with simulated explosives to drop the span into the creek it crossed. We carried out the mission without a hitch and swarmed onto the bridge to collect our reward. We were perpetually hungry by then, burning four thousand calories a day and lucky if we took in half that..
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