No surprises. ‘What is the word then?’ Montana lifted his baseball cap from his head, peered into the rearview mirror. ‘The word is, ruined. Epithets aren’t always the most effective vehicles of expression even though they feel so right,’ Mira said. Montana didn’t reply. She followed his gaze to the rearview mirror. ‘There’s no one behind us yet, Montana, it all just fucking occurred,’ she said, her speech slurring slightly at the end. ‘I can’t believe she did that. It was my fucking gun. That fucking idiot!’ Montana spat, spit sprayed against the windshield with the force of his words. There was cause for caustic cursing, Mira supposed. She clasped her seat belt, removed a metal canister and her makeup mirror. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ Montana slapped her hands causing a white cloud to billow throughout the car, obscuring her view of the road for the slightest second. ‘It’s snowing!’ She said in a voice devoid of mirth. That was all that she had left. ‘$1000 down the drain,’ she. By the time she finished Ranger school, Myra had earned her fourth degree Black belt, and the title Sensei, Yondan. It was with these skills ready that she waited passively for his next attack. Keeping her gaze fixed on the center of his chest, she anticipated his movements before he could actually make them. When he finally gave into his rage and renewed his attack, she timed the arc of his blow with unerring precision and deflected it with her arm. As his momentum carried him forward, Myra wrapped her arm around the back of his head and slid her hip under him. Suddenly off balance, Cam's two hundred and twenty pound's became his enemy and he grunted hard as he slammed into the ground. Once again Myra could have put him into a submission lock but instead stepped away. Safely out of arms reach, Myra wiped her hands together as if she were brushing off so much dirt from her palms. "Don't force me to seriously hurt you Cam. Shattered bones will only mean a slow death for you. Stay.
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