Pulp.

I got commissioned to write a pulp piece and guys, let me tell you, being Frank Miller without the insanity is all kinds of fun.

The mobster has a gun pressed to Rack’s forehead. The mobster has a god-shitting gun pressed to her partner’s fucking forehead, and the only thing Rhye can do is watch and scream as the scum smiles at her and pulls the trigger and blows Rack’s perfect brains out from between his ears.

Boom: Opening. Interested to see where this goes.

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