Weeds Don’t Bear Fruit

sometimes crime does pay. I stole this from Stephen.

“Where are you?” bellowed Simon Moon, firing into the darkness. “What do you want from me? Money? Power? You’ve got them. Listen to me!”

Only that damned chuckle came out of the darkness for response.

“Shadow, let’s talk sense. Maybe I can’t see you, but you’re still just human. You can’t dodge forever! Sooner or later I’ll hit you. Touch me, and do you bet you can knock me out before I plug you? See reason! We don’t have to be enemies. We could be partners. Everything you’ve ever wanted could be yours! You might think you’re some kind of a hero, but everyone else just thinks you’re a thug. A murderer!” One of his bullets ricocheted off a beam and there was a hiss of breath. “Got you, didn’t I? Didn’t I, Shadow?” Moon laughed, nastily. “There’s teeth in this old man yet! Feel the blood, Shadow, feel your strength flowing out of you with every heartbeat, every breath you take. How heavy your arms are! How long, I wonder, I wonder, Shadow, how long you’ll stay invisible. It gets harder, doesn’t it, the more you bleed. Eh, Shadow? Eh –” A hole bloomed on his forehead. He reached up a trembling hand to touch it. “Eh, Sha… dow…?”

The Shadow dropped down from the ceiling, completely uninjured. “Goodnight, Moon,” he rasped.