Nia Black continued to enjoy Bobby Styles’ performance. With a deep breath, she was again relaxed and turned back to the smiling face and sleek lips of Bobby and his saxophone art. Soon, she seemed completely unconcerned with Charlie’s warning, and she leaned with her arms folded upon her table, returning the gaze from the saxophonist. Nia didn’t even wonder how the night would turn out. She had more important things on her mind, like whether or not Bobby Styles had been working out. It looked like it.
        Bobby snatched his lips from his instrument when a deafening boom from outside—an explosion—interrupted the peace. Immediately, frightened patrons leaped from their seats and scrambled for the exit. Then, finding logic among confusion, someone must have realized how foolish it was to go in the same direction that the blast came from, and slowly people settled back down in the center of the club, taking positions under tables and crouched near the bar.
        As the other patrons’ panic and inquisitiveness killed the once calm ambiance, Nia finally stood from her seat, straightening her obsidian leather skirt with a sigh. The noise was the telltale sign; the time for relaxation was over. It was time for action. Like a light switch, her calm instantly became edge, her reflexes primed and ready, her mind on the battle to come.
        She lifted her black leather jacket from the back of her chair, securing a pair of silver-plated semi-automatic pistols within its inner pockets. Throwing the jacket upon her shoulders and sliding her arms into her sleeves, she approached the door, the one calm element among the pandemonium of the club as she ambled in the midst of their chaotic behavior. People were running and shouting and crouching and cursing in every direction, and a dozen people took a dozen actions between each one of Nia’s soft and graceful steps. She drew one of her pistols as she closed in on the club’s main entrance, taking care to keep the people inside the club from seeing it and getting even more excited. Before she could grab the knob however, a powerful voice amplified by a bullhorn called her attention.
        “Nia Black. I know you’re in there. You know who I am and you know why I’m here. Come on out. We don’t want any innocents hurt.”
        Nia stopped.
        Vincent! So you decided to come after me yourself… she thought. That’s what’s up.

Vincent Marks was an accomplished soldier whose determination for victory and outstanding talents in leadership allowed him to be promoted to the second-in-command position of the River City Armed Force at a rapid pace. Determined and righteous, his pure, honorable values and good-natured demeanor achieved him accolades from his superiors that forged a powerful commanding officer out of a once uncontrollable and undisciplined youth.
        But those same values cost Vincent the one thing he had trouble with—love. He had his chance and blew it for duty.
        After many years of ignoring his dismal solitude and losing himself in his career, he happened across a woman so beautiful, so angelic that he couldn’t resist her. Their attraction was mutual the instant they saw each other on that bright, sunny afternoon in a shopping mall. They hit it off at once. The two spent most of their free time together for a while, and seemed to be a match made in heaven.
        What strengthened their bond even more was that Vincent was her first—he was shocked to learn that before their relationship blossomed, she had never been with a man before. After they made love for the first time, she was convinced that the love they shared would bind them forever. Vincent hungered to protect and love her as his perfect treasure until the end of time. Vincent was the man that unlocked the barriers on the once coy and bashful young girl’s spirit, releasing the confident, fun-loving playful young lady that charmed wherever she went. He showed her that she could be loving, and lovable, without losing her defensive edge.
        But one fateful day, Vincent’s commanding officer, Stanford Bracks, informed Vincent that the woman he was falling in love with, the woman named Nia Black, matched the description of a notorious mercenary with several bounties on her head, a mercenary who was the Target Omega of Corp Hudson, the corporation that created the RCAF, the company that signed their paychecks. The woman Vincent loved with all his heart—and who claimed to love him as well—was in fact tantamount to his worst enemy.
        Instantly, Vincent’s affection for Nia became scorn. She was a criminal…and she hid it from him. Their very relationship was a humiliating paradox. One of the city’s most notorious criminals was dating one of the most prominent law officers—and the officer had no idea.
        Fooled and offended, Vincent had no qualms about arresting the girl, her freshly exposed values disgusting him to the core.
        Because of this, Maxwell Hudson, the benefactor of the RCAF, personally enlisted the proven Vincent Marks with the mission to detain the notorious Nia Black. Hudson hoped that Marks’ determination to capture Nia would not be hampered by an aching heart, rather, fueled by the bitter rage of betrayal.
        But even a duty-bound soldier like Vincent Marks could not easily forget the unfathomable beauty he once had as his own…and that would forever be his fatal flaw.

“Hold up, Nia.”
        A man’s deep voice stopped her in mid-stride. Bobby, the saxophonist, approached Nia from behind, accompanied by Marc.
        “Bobby…what’s the deal?” asked Nia. “Why are you off the stage? You should keep playing so everybody calms down!”
        “I had a feeling something was up,” Marc said.
        “Right as always, Marc,” Nia replied. “So why didn’t you say anything?”
        “You know how it is, Nia,” Marc grinned. “That’s your thing. I’m not trying to step on your toes. ‘Sides, I told you he was acting nervous, didn’t I?”
        Nia rolled her eyes.
        “Go out through the back. I don’t want you getting hurt,” said Bobby.
        Nia smiled. “I stay getting away from the law. I can definitely handle those toy cops out there.”
        Bobby looked around, ensuring that their discussion was secured within the dark confines of the Jazz Hall’s entryway.
        “You don’t understand. That’s no ordinary police force,” Bobby continued, his eyes quivering as they stared into Nia’s.
        “He’s right,” concurred Marc. “That’s the River City Armed Force. Those motherfuckers are crazy—they do anything to get their target.”
        “I know. I used to mess with one of them. Until we found out who each other was…” Nia said.
        “Just go out the back way. I want you to make it home tonight,” begged Bobby.
        Nia snickered. “Why, Bobby, I didn’t know you cared.”
        “Yes you did,” Bobby finished as Nia kissed his cheek. She turned and headed for the rear of the club.
        “Good luck, girl; you’re going to need it,” added Marc.
        “Hey, you watch yourself out there, you hear me?” yelled Bobby.
        Nia blushed as she walked off, overcome with elation. “You boys…I feel so loved.”

Soon Nia found her way to the back alleys behind the Jazz Hall and positioned herself between the garbage cans, examining the distance between her position and the top of the building. All was quiet save the humble sounds of droplets hitting the ground and the scrambling of stray felines looking for scraps. The air behind the club contradicted its classy interior with the scent of garbage, urine and spilled alcohol. Nia tightened her face and held her breath, the various odors merging into a pungent aroma that bored into her sense of smell like a drill. She stopped moving and listened to the air, picking up nothing more than humming engines.
        Her eyes locked on the edge of the Jazz Hall’s roof. She crouched and sprang upward, leaping from the ground to the top of the roof and landing on the gravel-coated surface.
        Nia stealthily approached the edge of the roof that overlooked the street and saw several armed soldiers flitting about. They were taking triangular attack positions in front of the club with assault rifles aimed at the door, their jeeps forming a half circle around the bit of street in front of the Jazz Hall, blocking anyone from entering or exiting. Nia shook her head.
        I wonder what made Vince decide to bring all those soldiers. I’m surprised he brought that big a platoon just to get little ol’ me. He’s slipping too…getting too excited and jumping the gun. He didn’t even put any men at the back door. Damn…I hate having to make him look so bad.
        The bullhorn sounded again. Nia glared at Vincent, who stood safely behind the jeeps, talking in the air through his amplifier. He walked about while he spoke, aiming his head left and right, clearly uncertain of Nia’s precise location.
        “Nia. We don’t want to have to blow up that nightclub, but we will and you know that. We know how much you like that place, thanks to your friend, Charlie. I would really like for you to surrender so it doesn’t have to get nasty.”
        Damn, Nia muttered to herself. I can’t let them hurt any of those innocent—oh, shoot, I forgot it was raining. Now my hair’s going to get all frizzy. I have to make this quick, or I’ll be right back in the hairdresser’s tomorrow.
        Suddenly, a cyclone pulled the wind towards the roof’s edge and a deafening whirring stifled Nia’s thoughts. She looked up and saw the dust in the air twisting in the sky around a helicopter hovering quickly in her direction. The blue-painted chopper was embroidered with a shining golden logo bearing four block letters placed side by side: RCAF, the logo of the River City Armed Force. As the chopper rotated sideways, turning its open hatch towards their target, Nia stopped and shielded her face with her arm as the helicopter’s rapidly swirling fenders sent droplets of rain and particles of dust flying in all directions.
        Shit, now my hair’s going to be frizzy and dirty.

Three soldiers sat inside of the open cockpit. One was the pilot, one operated a blinding strobe light and the third manned a large assault rifle atop a tripod. The one using the strobe spoke into a communication device attached to his helmet. Nia squinted as the corona of the strobe met her face and surrounded her in a white circle of light.
        “Lieutenant Commander Marks! Target Omega spotted on the roof!” the pilot hollered into his radio.
        “Immobilize her,” responded the booming voice. “But do not kill her.”
        That instant, firepower screamed from the assault rifle, stifling every other sound with a loud, chopping rattle. Nia skipped backward as shots skittered into the gravel on the roof of the nightclub and rippled the ground dangerously close to her feet. Evidently, they were aiming for her legs.
        “Oh, nah uh,” said Nia. “I’m going to get a run in my stocking…”
        Nia immediately burst into a sprint, hurdling over the gaps between the rooftops as frantically aimed bullets traced her path across the rooftops. Try as they did, they had no chance of hitting her. She was far swifter than expected, and her reflexes were immeasurably sharp. Even with pinpoint aiming, Nia simply weaved aside before the bullets could hit her, leaving holes in the ground in places she’d long since left.
        “Did you take her down yet?” Marks roared into his com.
        “Negative, sir. She…she’s too fast!”
        “What do you mean ‘she’s too fast’? Stop playing and take her down!”
        “Yes, sir…”
        Nia continued her flight until she reached the end of the line, as the row of buildings she’d been jumping across ended at an intersection in the street. Her heels skidded to a stop at the edge of the last building, forcing a wall of gravel in the air as the helicopter caught up. The gunman stopped to reload the assault rifle. He was an accomplished expert in handling munitions and would be finished and firing again in moments. Moments Nia couldn’t let pass idly by. There was nowhere else to run.
        The RCAF troops in the helicopter noticed Nia was making no attempt to hide or run away again. Her cockiness was mistaken for stupidity. And her next move astonished them to no end.
        Nia yanked one of her Baby Eagle pistols from within her jacket and leaped to the side, rapid-fire bullets whizzing between her sparsely-opened legs. The gunner watched as Nia’s body lunged in the air and her fist sparkled in the strobe light, then a single muzzle flash burst out.
        A bullet slashed across the knuckles of his trigger hand with a snap. Blood splashed across the ceiling of the helicopter as the shooter yanked his hand away from the gun, howling in agony. The assault rifle followed his momentum and spun wildly on its mount, struck the top edge of the hatch, ricocheted back down and sent a stream of shots into the top of the strobe light, killing the light in a blast of sparks and shards. In fright from the fireworks surrounding them inside the cockpit, the other two men frantically leaped from their seats. The helicopter lost control and began to swing away.
        When Nia landed, she rolled into a kneeling stance and aimed both her guns, perforating the bases of the top and rear rotor blades of the helicopter with several critically aimed shots. The helicopter began to spiral wildly towards the street with a dying moan, a swirl of smoke trailing. Nia stood and sheathed her beloved weapons within her leather jacket, smiling all the while as the hum of the helicopter’s engine drowned out. The helicopter slammed on the asphalt but didn’t explode—it didn’t have far enough to fall to build up sufficient momentum for a serious crash.
        “You wish you had aim like me,” she cheered as the helicopter crash quivered the ground beneath her feet. Nia dropped from the two-story building she stood upon, landing in the street near the wrecked helicopter and sprinting towards her fallen motorcycle.
        Nia soon sighted her sport bike, lying on its side in the street. Her heart skipped a beat.
        “The hell?! What kind of fool knocks over somebody’s motorcycle? Do they have any idea how much this thing is worth?! Fucking repair shop’s going to charge a fortune for those dents…”
        She smelled flickering flames some distance away and looked into the open street, immediately recognizing the smoldering remains of Charlie’s sedan. Nia sighed. He played her, but Nia had hoped Charlie wouldn’t have met that kind of end. Not until after she got him back, anyway.
        “Damn. I guess we both need to learn who to mess with and who not to,” she mumbled to herself.
        Then Nia flinched when pattering footsteps grew progressively louder towards her.
        “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
        “What—?!”
        Nia spun around on her heel and froze in place. A man was standing a short distance away from her, a Beretta grasped in his hands, pointed at her head. He was just close enough to keep her docile and just far enough to react to her if she tried anything. Worse, he positioned himself directly between Nia and her motorcycle. Nia didn’t move.
        “What’s up, Vince…?” mumbled Nia with a false grin. She kept her mood up even in the face of danger. Fear was for lesser women.
        “That’s Lieutenant Commander Marks to you, Miss Black,” Vincent said with a smile. “Nice show up there on the roof. I used to tell you all the time, you’d have been a great fit for the RCAF.”
        “Yeah, well, I like the idea of making my own rules instead of obeying some tyrant’s.”
        About twenty feet away were more of his troops, standing with their weapons aimed. Vincent waved at them, ordering them to stand down. He wanted to do the honors himself.
        “Cute, Nia,” Vincent Marks retorted. “It’s people like Hudson who keep order in this city. He’s no saint…but crime is down and employment is up because of him. It’s time you grew up and accepted it. Your little crusade is doing more harm than good, don’t you know that?”
        “You think I give a damn about this city? This is about me. That’s why…”
        “I know, Nia. That’s why we broke up. I couldn’t be with someone so…so damn immature. You don’t go trying to kill the president just because he raised taxes. Whatever beef you got against Hudson, you’ve got to…”
        “You don’t know shit, Vincent,” Nia interrupted him. “If you knew what the real deal was, you would never work for him. You’d be running and gunning right along with me. I know you’re a better man than that…at least I thought you were.”
        Nia’s shoulder tilted back. She started a dash.
        “Ah-ah,” Vincent sneered, outstretching his arms and gun out closer to her. “I know you’re fast. I know you’ve got reflexes. But I doubt you can outrun a bullet. Especially since you’ve got to get past me to get to that bike of yours.”
        Nia exhaled. “Vincent. I don’t want to hurt you.”
        “You don’t want to hurt—?”
        Then Vincent looked into her eyes. Soft brown pools capped by relaxed eyelids, accented with razor sharp eyelashes, blinking slowly. A crazy calm. She meant what she said.
        She had nothing to be afraid of. And she knew it. And it wasn’t just because of their past relationship.
        But Vincent had the gun. Hers were sheathed. Where was the confidence coming from?
        Then he found out.
        Faster than Vincent could blink, the black blur of a leather boot swung from the ground and struck Vincent’s hands, sending his pistol flying up and away from his grip. In the same motion, Nia swung back her foot and slammed it into Vincent’s chest, leaving a dripping boot print in his uniform and sending him tumbling across the cold, wet street.
        Her foot returned to the ground and Nia pushed off of it, dashing towards her bike, but instantly skidded to a halt in the street. A wall of machine gun fire cut perpendicular to the path between her and the bike. Her head spun to her right and saw Vincent’s troops, aiming at her.
        Nia cursed herself. She let herself get so angry at Vincent she forgot them. If she were slower, they could have sent those bullets straight through her. She was trained better than that, she thought.
        Nia yanked her twin pistols from inside her jacket, aiming them at the soldiers, breathing heavily. She would die—or kill—before she would be captured.
        Vincent slammed his fist on the ground and leaped to his feet.
        “Wait!” he shouted. “Stand down! We’ll let him handle this!”
        The RCAF soldiers did as they were told.
        “Gunner!” Vincent called out.
        Nia turned in the direction Vincent shouted in, towards an RCAF transport vehicle parked a short distance away, across the street from the Jazz Hall. The back doors opened and a shirtless, muscular man with a freshly crew-cut platinum-dyed hair leaped from inside. He was wearing the pants and boots of the RCAF uniform, but nothing else. Nia smiled as she eyed his physique, his muscles bulging with striation.
        “A present for me, Vince?”
        Vincent smiled sardonically.
        The man walked towards Nia, and it was then that she noticed something strange about him. He had some sort of tarp covering his left arm…and the shape of the covering made his forearm appear far longer than a human arm should have been.
        The man snatched off the covering, and Nia’s mind was no longer on the man’s alluring muscle build. Her attention locked on what appeared to be a minigun grafted in place of the man’s left forearm, and a bandolier with a seemingly endless string of bullets wrapped around his bicep, leading inside of the weapon.
        “This is RCAF Project 423, codename Gunner,” Vincent stated. “He’s one of Corp Hudson’s experimental soldiers, a man so completely committed to the destruction of criminals and terrorists that he allowed himself to be…upgraded, to better serve our purpose. That’s a military-grade rapid fire minigun on his arm there…similar to the cannons on battle copters. We had to subdue his nerves and give him massive strength enhancers in order for him to use the weapon comfortably, but as you’re about to find out…it was all worth it.”
        Nia backpedaled as the man lumbered closer. Hudson…turning people into living weapons… she thought. He just gets more and more disgusting.
        “I wasn’t going to do this, Nia. I was ordered to make sure you never bothered Hudson again. I was crossing the line letting you live this long. But, I see there’s no future for us—for you. If you refuse grow up, we might as well cut it all off now.”
        Gunner hefted his left arm and dropped it in his right palm, holding it level and aiming towards Nia. “Yo man, you sure you want to do this? I mean, you weren’t lying when you said she was sexy as hell…”
        “Just…do it,” Vincent muttered almost sorrowfully. “That’s an order…from the big man.”
        Gunner shrugged. “All right…”
        Nia instantly drew one of her Baby Eagles and fired. Three shots pounded into Gunner’s shoulder, red droplets diluting in puddles of rain on the street. With each shot, Gunner staggered back.
        Then he stood straight again.
        “Yeah…” Gunner smiled. “I like it when they put up a fight.”
        Nia’s eyes widened. He wasn’t hurt at all.
        Gunner drew one foam rubber earplug from his pocket and pressed it into his left ear canal. He repeated the action using the same hand—the only hand he could do it with, plugging his right ear. Then he pulled a small trigger on the underside of his gun-arm, and with a subtle whir, the minigun’s multiple barrels began spinning.
        Nia gasped.
        A cone of hellfire erupted from Gunner’s arm, spewing countless screaming bullets!
        Nia immediately sprinted out of the way, a chain of exploding cars and leaping sparks erupting behind her as she shielded herself from flying debris with her arms. The thundering force of the weapon quivered the very air.
        “Run bitch, run!” Gunner clamored.
        Nia circled around Gunner as he followed with his gunfire, his high-powered bullets tracing the circumference and tearing through everything in their path, from the passenger cars on one side of the street to the RCAF vehicles on the other.
        “Gunner!” Vincent screamed. “Not our cars, you idiot!”
        “Huh? I can’t hear you! The gun’s too loud!” Gunner shouted back as his shots shredded more RCAF vehicles.
        Nia leaped behind one of the RCAF transports as Gunner’s shots chattered on the other side, the vehicle trembling with every bullet.
        Phew… she thought. This one’s armored…thank goodness. This ain’t never going to end until he blasts my ass into confetti or until I find a way to stop him.
        Gunner turned towards Vincent, his spinning weapon slowly grinding to a halt. “Yes, sir?”
        “You’re shooting our vehicles, you moron,” Vincent said. “She’s hiding behind the APC. Go get her!”
        Gunner walked slowly towards the armored personnel carrier. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…”
        The vehicle tilted a bit toward Gunner with a tinny squeak. Something hit the top.
        Vincent looked up.
        “Gunner—!”
        But it was too late.
        A figure pounced from the roof of the armored vehicle. Gunner saw the sole of a heeled boot speeding towards his face. Before he knew it, with a whap his head jerked backward and he slid across the wet asphalt on his bare back, his gun grinding across the ground in a wave of sparks.
        When he stopped sliding, Gunner shook his head and looked ahead. He saw a blurry image of a small, curvy girl charging towards him. He immediately climbed to his feet, twisted right and wildly swung his gun arm out to his left like a massive club, his arm tearing through the air with a thundering whoosh. Nia, her heels skidding against the wet asphalt, swung back her spine, bending under his attack like a limbo dancer, the minigun sailing just above her lips, the pull of its wake nearly yanking hair from her head. His arm clanged on the ground behind him, the overwhelming momentum of his brazen attack throwing him off-balance.
        Nia saw her opening and immediately unleashed an onslaught of knee strikes and elbows to his head and chest, Gunner’s body stumbling back with every strike.
        Vincent Marks could only stare with his fists tightened.
        When Nia relented, Gunner turned to her, a sick grin on his face. Once again, no damage. He didn’t even bleed.
        Nia frowned.
        He began to heft the gun-arm again for another melee attack.
        Nia stared into his eyes and winded her foot back.
        Her foot swung towards Gunner with a sickening thump…and he stopped in his tracks.
        Vincent cringed.

Gunner’s face trembled in blank shock as Nia’s foot bored into his groin with the force of a wrecking ball, crushing his testicles almost flat. All use of his body’s appendages failed at once, every action and every thought muted by a shooting pain that spread out from his mid-section in all directions throughout his body. He’d never felt such pain before. It was as if someone dropped a cinderblock square on his manhood, and he could only beg and plead in his mind for the agony to stop.
        Groaning in misery and clutching himself as best he could, Gunner stumbled to the ground and rolled into a ball.
        “I figured you wouldn’t let them subdue those nerves,” Nia smiled.
        Vincent flinched, his eyes twitching as he watched Gunner tremble in a fetal position, whining a disturbingly high pitched cry of agony.
        “Dammit,” Vincent hissed.
        Nia stood straight, smoothed out her hair and turned around. Vincent was standing bold as his remaining group of RCAF soldiers, bearing body armor and assault rifles, rushed towards Nia with their weapons leveled.
        She smiled.
        Good…RCAF standard issue body armor…lightweight...and bulletproof. Nice. That means I don’t have to work so hard. I don’t want to kill these fools.
        She balanced her motorcycle on the kickstand, her back to her enemies as the soldiers lumbered closer.
        “Boys,” Nia said without turning around. “Y’all ain’t playing by the rules. The stage is supposed to be over after I beat the boss. It’s time for me to go to the next stage. Gimme my bonus points.”
        “Nia Black, in the name of the River City Armed Force, I order you to lay down your arms and surrender!” bellowed one of the troops.
        Nia spun around quickly, fireballs pounding from both barrels!
        “No.”
        Bullets struck the RCAF soldiers in the torsos while Nia dashed away from her bike. She leapt onto the hoods of parked cars as gunfire traced her path across the ground. Twelve men charged towards her, three remained standing.
        Machine gun fire showered the cars under Nia, their engines exploding as she sprang spectacularly from their hoods, leaping across the erupting cars as if shot in the air by the explosions under her.
        In midair she fired three shots. They were followed by three thumps and three grunts. Then the only sounds were the clacks of Nia’s heels striking the ground and the mumble of the flames dancing on the destroyed vehicles.
        The RCAF men were down, wincing and nursing their aching chests. Their body armor prevented bullets from penetrating their flesh, but did little against the force behind the bullets.
        Vincent watched Nia walk back towards her bike. The whole fiasco was planned. She ran from her bike to discourage her enemies from shooting towards it. Then she took them out freely, completely confident that they would not be able to hit her. Vincent didn’t understand it at all. How was a young woman barely in her twenties capable of overcoming a platoon of trained soldiers—and a genetically enhanced bio-weapon—so easily? Vincent couldn’t stop thinking about it as he watched her bounce around in silence.
        “I kept them from hitting your pride and joy, Vince,” Nia smiled, trotting back toward her bike and lifting it from the ground. “See? I’m taking good care of it. See ya.”
        Vincent could do nothing but watch. He didn’t bother going for his Beretta. She overcame impossible odds with a smile and a wink. What was the point?
        In moments, the guttural roar of the bike rumbled the ground and she was gone.
        “Pick yourselves up,” Vincent ordered. “Let’s head back to the armory. I’ve wasted enough manpower on Nia. At least we got the prototype back.”
        “Yes, sir.”
        The men dragged themselves to their vehicles. Vincent stood, watching the road where Nia’s bike had long since vanished from view.
        One day, Nia…one day…one way or another…I’m going to get you.