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“They know that.” He smiled“They appreciate natural…amateur beauty.”She looked to her left down the hallway. She feltadrenaline rush into her stomach as she thought abouthis clients sitting waiting. She looked back at Martin.“I don’t know, Martin…I’d feel so…” (AdProvider = window.AdProvider || []).push({"serve": {}});“Honey,” he cut in, stroking her face again. “This is areally big deal here.” His voice was firm. “It’s reallyimportant for me.”She looked down at the floor for a moment and gatheredher strength. It was the least she could do.“O…okay…” she said.“Thank you Honey,” he replied. “It shouldn’t take toolong.”She smiled weakly at him. Her hands fidgeted in frontof her.“Now there’s only one thing though…” he continued.She stared up at him. . “And this might be kinda hard,”he. He didn’t have a plan, nor did he want or need one. The only reason for him being here is to exact his revenge and kill a murderer. With the flick of a wrist, a switchblade jumped in a painted hand. With that simple movement of his hand, his life would change and the murderer’s would end. He joined the mosh pit and started thrashing about, careful of the five-inch knife in his right hand. He made his way over to the shooter and looked him in eyes before slamming the switchblade in his stomach. He had stabbed him in the middle of the concert, in the middle of a very violent mosh pit. It was a pretty good cover up, a hundred or so people and one dead guy. The cause of death could be one of many things, crushed underfoot, exhaustion, just the violence of the pit was enough to send a few others to the hospital, none were as wounded as the shooter, his wounds were fatal. The shooter lay on the ground bleeding. No one cared about him. The music infiltrated all their minds, they were drawn.
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