Through Someone Else’s Eyes

Pavelec leaned in close to Pavit’s hands, gazing interestedly through her fast-blinking eyes at the moving images in the space between his fingers. SMS and Brenda Bailey moved into the clearing, closer to Pavelec and the gangster, so they could watch over Pavelec’s shoulders. The flickering grayscale image, seemingly recorded through the gangster’s own eyes, showed him stepping off the sidewalk and working his way through a cluttered driveway towards the front door of Walter Carton’s house. The view through the screen was shifting around nervously, scanning the street on either side. The road curved gently up and around a hill, lined by houses in various states of shabbiness and disrepair. SMS didn’t recognize the neighbourhood.

“This was on Saturday,” Pavit told them, narrating. “It was close to 11 PM, I believe. Jovo always likes to have payments delivered at night. I think she is superstitious about it.”

Was superstitious,” Pavelec corrected him.

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One Night Only

“Strength, endurance, flight, heightened senses,” said Walter Carton. “It’s a package deal. Sun goes down, I say the magic word, and suddenly you’re a god among ants, but for one night only. Couldn’t give you a second go-round if I wanted to. That’s just how it works.” Walter stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray perched on the edge of the grimy kitchen table and shielded his eyes from the early morning sun, which had just started to peek through a crack in the blinds. He turned to look at his latest “client.”

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