Heart Strings

Two Miles Away

Goldie squinted at Pinwheel as he gave a casual roll of his shoulders, waiting patiently to hear her response.

"Tell you what," she sighed. "I'm in a bit of a jam here."

"And why's that?"

"A few miles away, I had a brief incident and lost my Generation Two Oilslick Predict Shield."

"Where did you manage to get your hands on that?" Pinwheel was a bit taken aback but not enough to interrupt his nonchalant demeanor. He was fascinated, though. Predict Shields were able to learn and memorize the fight you were in so that they could then predict when you'd be attacked and from which angle. They could then use an invisible force field around the user to effectively block the strikes.

"Doesn't matter. Since you obviously know what it's worth, you should also know how badly I need it back. Can you and your boys help me get it?"

Pinwheel raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. With another roll of his tattooed neck, he questioned Goldie. "Why do you need help? I know you're not the type to ask for it, especially from the likes of us."

"And you're not the type to give it. Still, if you want those ships, you'll do me this favor."

"And if you want our end of the deal completed with all of your teeth remaining in that pretty mouth of yours you'll tell me why you need the favor." The young men began to stand from their bikes and approach Goldie.

"I ran into someone." Goldie said, almost nervous as she reminded herself that she was a runner, not a fighter, and these men's patience was wearing thin.

"Who?" Pinwheel questioned her again, his deep, dark eyes peering into Goldie's. He had such soulful and round puppy eyes—perhaps the only comforting feature amongst his dark, almost midnight black with purple undertones, scarred face. The more his skin glistened with sweat in the sunlight the more apparent it became that those eyes were not only teeming with passion—they were teeming with a wild urge. For what, though, depended on his mood.

Goldie had a hard time admitting the name. She sputtered a moment, her dainty hand gripping her chest lightly out of nervousness. Finally, she said clearly, "It was Polite."

Pinwheel's eyes widened and his wild eyebrows raised. The boys behind him already hadn't uttered a word but somehow their silence became even more quiet as Goldie tried to gulp the lump in her throat. "Are you stupid?" Pinwheel's voice cracked.

"Why the surprised expression?" Goldie tried to laugh.

"You expect me to take these guys anywhere that woman and that crazy modified tech has been? You must be stupid. Either that, or it's a trap."

"It's no trap. If it were, you'd have already seen right through it, Pinwheel."

"Flattery won't lure me any closer to that death sentence. That woman has been known to destroy armies for fun and you think I'd risk my neck and Crescendo's for your damn shield?"

"She may not even be there anymore." Goldie tried convincing.

"But whatever she's left behind may be. You know that, Quick Gold. Check this out," Pinwheel took a glass knife from its holster and pressed it to Goldie's neck. "You take us to those ships and we don't visit Mommy's last known location and figure out where she went from there. Or even better—you take us to those ships and we don't sell this disc to the United Emblems."

Goldie smirked at the sudden excitement but quickly remembered about her shield she was still on the verge of losing but not quite yet ready to give up on.

"Let's not play around anymore," Goldie said, trying not to smile. "You'd never be able to locate Heart Grandeur, so those threats don't scare me the way Polite scares you."