‘1978, Tehran,’ Sharaf said as they disengaged. ‘The last summer of freedom in Iran, before the Revolution. I remember it well, my friend. I’m sure you do too.’
‘Heady times, Sharaf, heady times.’
‘Heady indeed! I even managed to get a grizzled old grinch like you into the clubs! Do you remember the car I was driving? Come on, you have to. It was a glorious vehicle, my man, glorious!’
Zakaria scratched his chin and gazed at the trees, raising an eyebrow as his mind travelled back through time and space.
‘I remember that it was red … Italian…’ After a few moments he threw his hands up in the air and laughed. ‘I give up! I’m not one for cars or motorcycles, Sharaf, you know this.’
‘Ferrari 308 GT4! Templar, you are hopeless,’ Sharaf sighed with mock disappointment, mirth sparkling in his eyes all the while. ‘No wonder I got all the girls … and boys. You were an all right wingman though, I suppose. Passable, only just though, truth be told’
As they were talking, Chloe and Ranomi strolled into the circle. Chloe and Sharaf stared at each other, and Sharaf’s expression morphed rapidly from one of genial playfulness into one of an abrasive harshness that verged on aggression.
‘So you’re the new fish, the mortal kid,’ he grunted, cocking his head to the side in a brash gesture of dismissal. ‘I don’t see how babysitting a child will help us in any way to take down some of the toughest sons of whores on the planet … but here you are, dressed up all hardcore with a dash of sexy in your army getup. Let me tell you something, though: this isn’t some fucking comic book movie, and you’re not Harley Quinn or Tank Girl. This isn’t a game we’re playing; people are going to die. You’re probably going to die, and it won’t be quick or painless either. And if Sigurd and his boys get hold of you, with that tight little body of yours…’
Anger blazed across Chloe’s face, and her jaw hovered half open while her enraged mind scrambled for a comeback, but before she could respond William stepped in, calm and cool, raising his hands in a submissive gesture, all too used to Sharaf’s mercurial mood swings and standoffish attitude – a reactive mix when combined with Chloe’s short fuse. This was a concoction that would need careful handling.
‘She’s no mere child, Sharaf, and seriously, come now old boy, that wasn’t the nicest way to make an introduction—’
‘When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it, Tiger,’ Sharaf snapped, his tone acerbic. His words were directed at William, but his withering gaze never once left Chloe’s eyes. ‘Come on Harley Quinn, what’s the matter, you need Gisborne to speak for you?’
‘Sharaf,’ Ranomi began, moving to step between him and Chloe.
‘Thank you, William and Ranomi,’ Chloe said, putting her hand on Ranomi’s forearm and holding her back, ‘but as much as I appreciate your help, I don’t need it. I can stand on my own two feet. This douchebag doesn’t know a damn thing about me, and his ignorance is literally showing in a seriously embarrassing way.’
The corners of Sharaf’s mouth inched upward, and the resulting smirk, dripping with condescension, was mirrored in his gleaming eyes.
‘You may think you can handle what you’ve gotten yourself into, but we’re not at a fucking cosplay convention. That nine-mil you’re wearing on your hip, you ever killed a man with it? Have you ever taken a bullet yourself? Sure, you may have squeezed off a few rounds at a paper target, but—’
‘Yeah, I literally have killed a man, actually,’ Chloe retorted in a matter-of-fact tone, folding her arms with assertive aggression across her chest, the gleam of her eyes bright with defiance and a cockiness that matched the Arab’s. ‘But with an AK-47, not with this gun. Um, and I shot another guy as well, but I’m not sure if he died or not. And I’ve probably had a few hundred bullets literally fired in my direction too. I got hit too, but I was wearing a bulletproof vest.’
‘She’s more capable than you realise, my friend,’ William added, doing his best to suppress a smile of amusement. ‘And she’s been through so much more than you could imagine.’
‘William,’ Chloe said to William, ‘like I said, I appreciate—’
‘Well, well, well,’ Sharaf drawled, interrupting Chloe, his sneer remaining lodged firmly in place. ‘It appears that maybe Tank Girl here is more than just a pretty face. Apologies m’lady, I had no idea you actually knew a thing or two about violence. Real violence, not fake comic book action movie bullshit.’ His words were jocular, but every jagged syllable was barbed with sarcasm and vitriol. His obsidian eyes blasted their rusty harpoons into Chloe’s, probing and seeking for any sign of weakness. He was surprised to find none, though.
‘I’m no expert,’ she retorted, her eyes even brighter now, and her jaw and neck muscles tight with defiance and a barely contained wrath that hissed and spat like boiling oil doused with water, ‘but I’m no damn freshman either. So I’d appreciate it, Sharaf, if you didn’t talk to me like I was some starry-eyed fangirl or some shit, okay?’
Sharaf’s sneer blossomed into a mocking smile, and he stood with his arms akimbo.
‘You act as if I owe you some form of respect, girl. Let me say this: respect is earned, not given.’
‘She may be a child in biological years,’ Ranomi interjected, before Chloe could respond, ‘but she’s already lost a close friend to the Huntsmen, and has had to engage in gunfights with their troops on more than one occasion. She’s been uprooted from everything she’s ever known, and thrown into the middle of a war, on which the fate of the entire living world rests. She’s not only learned that we
