"Okay, let's see. Two Glock 19's? Oh, please, that's a purse gun -- two submachine guns, H&K MP5's, nice choice -- where are you guys getting these things? Assorted ammo. No explosives -- good boys -- and a bunch of zip tie handcuffs. No masks, though. Why is that?"

I looked up at the men, expectantly. I had their heads seriously messed up. It was obvious they couldn't decide whether to run, or stick it out.

Bald Guy produced a nasty-looking knife. "That's no business of yours, girlie. Don't ya know who we are?"

I pulled a few of the zip cuffs from out of the bundle. "Oh, I know you. You're a couple of the Cartel's disposable soldiers…"

Then I gave him a feral grin. "But -- you don't know who I am."

The moon had the night off; the few widely-separated streetlights in this part of town had to work extra hard tonight, just to keep each other in sight through the humid darkness.

Lightning flashed over the city, making sudden shadows jump, the crash of thunder following quickly on its heels, rattling windows. Despite the imminence of the oncoming storm, it was largely ignored; anyone still trying to scrape a living off the dusty streets at this lonely hour wouldn't be put off by a few measly fireworks. They had more urgent things to be afraid of.

Me, for instance.

But tonight I was after bigger fish. I was pretty sure the bigger fish were after me, too.