the smuggler’s bible

Angel

“Wow, you got him good.”

“You have to swing from the hips.” Angel demonstrates with the baseball bat. “See? Feet planted and twist.”

A few people begin straggling out of the bar on the corner. “Closing time. We should probably go. Want to move the body?”

“Not to, like, hide it. Here.” Angel grabs a wrist and pulls until the head she just cracked like a walnut is drooping over the curb. “That’ll save somebody a new pair of shoes at least.”

Then they leave. They get away. Clean! Nobody cares. The guy was a dick and vigilantes are cool.