Dwight Monologues

The Fire, baby. It’ll burn us both. It’ll kill us both. There’s no place in this world for our kind of fire. My warrior woman. My Valkyrie. You’ll always be mine. Always… and never.

Most people think Marv is crazy. He just had the rotten luck of being born in the wrong century. He’d be right at home on some ancient battlefield swinging an axe into somebody’s face. Or in a Roman arena, taking his sword to other gladiators like him. They woulda tossed him girls like Nancy back then.

This time I can’t bring myself to tell him to shut up. Sure he’s an asshole… Sure he’s dead… Sure I’m just imagining that he’s talking. None of that stops the bastard from being absolutely right. I don’t have a chance in hell of outrunning this cop. Not in this heap. The only question left is whether I’m gonna kill him or not. Tough call. For all I know, he’s an honest cop, regular guy. Working stiff with a mortgage, a wife and a pile of kids. My hand moves all on its own, sliding on of my guns to my lap and thumbing back the hammer. I don’t know what to do…

She almost yanks my head clean off, shoving my mouth into hers so hard it hurts. An explosion that blasts away the dull, gray years between the now and that one fiery night when she was mine.

Miho. You’re an angel. You’re a saint. You’re Mother Teresa. You’re Elvis. You’re God. And if you’d shown up about ten minutes earlier, we’d still have Jackie-Boy’s head.

It wasn’t “Stop.” Shellie wasn’t saying “Stop.” If I had waited and listened to her, I would’ve known. I could’ve warned the girls to go easy. To settle for scaring them off. Shellie didn’t say “Stop,” she said “Cop.” He’s a *cop*. Detective Lieutenant Jack Rafferty. “Iron Jack” the papers call him. A goddamn *hero cop*.

Dozens of them. Armed to the teeth. I’m outnumbered. Outgunned. But the alley is crooked, dark, and very narrow. They can’t surround me. Sometimes you can beat the odds with a careful choice of where to fight.

It’s your apartment. But be careful, Shellie, this clown’s got big, mean drunk-on and he’s got four friends out there in the hall, breathing hard and just as drunk as he is.

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