All night until noon, LaMesha patrolled the streets of City Two—and enjoyed every second of it—long were the days of just standing around and doing nothing; finally, the training she wasted her youth on became relevant. Bags lay underneath her eyes, but a faint grin appeared often. LaMesha continued to march street by street, block by block, and shot any Tenebris she came across with her revolver—by her side, DaMarko, who dragged his feet as the hours passed.
“I believe these are the last streets to clear,” DaMarko said. He tied back his shaved cornrows and dusted his blue and white uniform. Though his eyelids drooped, he still had a smile plastered on his face.
DaMarko continued to look at his surroundings, hunched over and blinking slowly—he held a modern shotgun—white, blue, and new. Pacing with it in both hands as he jogged to catch up with LaMesha.
“Well, that’s a bummer,” LaMesha replied. “Ok, I’ll take care of this street, and you take care of the next. Don’t wait for me, after this I’m going to City Hall.”
“Ok. And sis, don’t get bit,” DaMarko said.
“Trust me. I don’t plan on getting decommissioned today.”
DaMarko nodded and then sped away to the next street.
