Pink Harzard's Nominations

“These two…quite dangerous people, I’m sure, at some point,” Amy started, shaking her head at the injured old man and the scared blonde girl, her blue lips curling upward, “are part of Alec Gideon’s pathetic ‘guard’. He must be in the cave somewhere. If we removed the opposition and delivered the Wing to Gabriel, do you really think he would care if a few people died?” Logan was inching toward Preston, whose forehead was dripping, his eyes trained warily on the gun.

“Look at her hands,” he muttered to Logan, who seemed to find this an odd request. She looked all the same.

The hand holding the gun was like the rest of Amy’s body, slender and dark. But the other hand was gloved in sleek forest-green leather. Logan frowned, looking at Preston, more than a little worried about his sanity in his present state. “Why does that matter -” she began, but she was interrupted.

“Oh, shut UP,” Amy said, her eyes rolling. The bare hand cocked the gun trained on Preston’s forehead. “If you must know, I only watched your wife’s torture. A shame, really. I would’ve liked to say I took part in the removal of both Prestons from our world.” She smiled at this prospect, finger tightening.

Logan shouted, “NO!” but not before the woman pulled the trigger. Logan slammed her eyes shut just in time, the last image burned in her brain Preston’s weary face frozen in disbelief. She heard the body hit the ground with a sickening crash.