I put my finger up to the glass and he danced all around it, little tongue flicking at it to try and smell me.  I stood and stared at him for awhile and eyed him, then turned away to go look at something else.  It wasn’t long before I was right back at the case again, putting my finger up to the glass for him to bobble around as he tried to crawl onto it from his side of the glass and rubbed his nose at the top of the tank to get out.  He was active and curious and desperate to get somewhere that wasn’t in that little box.

My girlfriend said she was horribly tempted to buy him.  I gave her an eyeball and then made some offhanded comment about not being able to take him home anyway because my grandmother hated snakes.  She gave me a look and told me that she would keep him for me if I wanted to get him.

I stood there for a long time and waffled on rather I should or shouldn’t get him, rather I could afford it, how much it would be, where I would put him, what I would do with him, if I could ever even be a snake owner and provide the care for him that I needed to.

I had never really actively researched about snakes, had only kept up an interest in passing because I never thought I would be able to own one and now I was standing in front of a case filled with brightly coloured corn snakes and this one little albino who was dancing all over the case for me.

I bought the damned snake.  Knowing just short of NOTHING about one, I bought the damned snake.  So many times I have berated people for buying a dog and then not knowing how to feed, train or take care of one and here I was impulse buying a frigging reptile.

Since my girlfriend is a vet tech, I asked her what she knew about them and, while not claiming to be an officiant, she had worked with them and had a basic knowledge and understanding of snakes.  My exotics vet for my ferret has a partner who deals exclusively with reptiles and amphibians, so I knew who to take him to when he gets sick.  She walked me through and we picked up the basic supplies I would need for him and, a hundred and twenty five dollars and change later, I walked home with a snake in a little plastic cup to set up my tank.

Since he’s still a baby and barely two feet long, I bought a five and a half gallon beginner tank that can later be used to raise the feeder mice we’ll eventually breed and freeze for him.  He has a water dish large enough for him to curl up in and a nice sized rock hidey-hole.  We have him in a shredded substrate that is easily changed and bought an under the tank heater for one side of the little enclosure.  It has a secure and latching lid with locks to keep him from nosing his way out and getting lost.  I picked up two thermostats and one to read humidity and affixed those in the tank for him.  After handling him for  just a little bit, we let him get settled in his tank.

This is when the hardcore research begins.  I brought up every article I could find on keeping corn snakes.  I found books that I am going to pick up and read.  I have my girlfriend as a reference.  I have addresses to herp societies in my area that I can contact for advice should I need a second or third opinion.  I have watched youtube videos.  I have compiled a list of things I SHOULD have asked them at the petstore.  Thankfully they gave me a list of how often and how much he’d been fed.

I don’t even know if he is a he or not.  He’s too young to sex at this point as far as I can tell and, really, I don’t feel comfortable jabbing a probe down in my snake’s rectum to find out if he has a penis or not.  That’s something the vet can do for me when I take him for his first wellness check.

By all the research I’ve been doing, he is a juvenile snake, which I had figured.  I don’t know many pet stores who would actually sell babies.  He is about two feet long, which is about half his adult length.  He is a constrictor and, as such, will never be allowed around my neck just because I’m paranoid.  He is a snake and I am nothing more than a warm, moving tree to him.

Like any responsible, knowledgeable pet owner, I left the naming of my pet up to a status on my facebook page where people suggested names like “noodle” and “alfredo” and gave me a plethora of Harry Potter references.  Then it went into Metal Gear jokes and there was even a song written about him.
<h3><em>Elaphe guttata.   What a wonderful snake! Elaphe
guttata, ain’t no passin’ phase! It  means dead rodents for the rest
of your days! It’s your rattus-free  herpetology! Elaphe guttata!</em></h3>
Yes, all of my friends are dorks and I love them very much.

So now I am sitting here reading more articles and thought I should post to my journal that I am a complete idiot and need to be smacked and shot for being such a tool.  Now I go back to research that I shall post somewhere for future reference.

When I started this book, I was deeply reminded of some of the games I used to play with childhood friends, a game played with the son of family friends and games I still wish, in a way, I could play. The book seemed to progress from the mind of the child to the adolescent to the young adult and the language flowed along with it, which was both comforting and unsettling at the same time. There were times I was pulled from the book when the timeline and chronology seemed off (which, with research, in fact, were not) and at times the story seemed centered in modern times instead of the 70s and 80s when the book was set.

All in all I found Isabel to be a rather vapid character with no real direction or aim in her life. Her goals to be an actress seemed superficial at best and a pipeline dream. She was plain and simple and pretty easy to understand and, in the end, sympathetic. How many of us have gone through most of our lives with no ideas, no plans, only a vague idea of what would be nice? I know most of my life was filled that way, flitting around from one thing to another until I finally landed somewhere that seemed right. Is it still? Will it be permanently? Who knows?

In the end, the book left me with a feeling of sadness without closure. It seemed like I picked up on Isabel’s sense of wanting and it has carried through with me. It has, however, given me the urge to write my own book with the lines that have been haunting me since I first started reading.

I would definitely recommend the book. It’s a quick read and the plot is just enough to keep you following along to the end. The writer does a great job of letting us into Isabel’s headspace and the subtle cultural references keep things in perspective.

Also, if anyone reads or has read, I would be interested in discussing the book with you. I still feel, even though I’ve read it, that I’m missing something important.

View all my reviews

The way to figure word counts is generally to count pages and then multiply by 250, which is the average word count on each page.  Harry Potter’s chapters are around 21 pages long, putting the counts for a chapter at around 5,000ish.  So I wouldn’t be too far off having Baby’s first chapter being somewhere around 6,000.

I believe I have the first chapter written and it needs editing.  I’m just not sure who to give it to for an edit.  Most people won’t want to hurt my feelings or don’t have the technical knowledge to give me what I need.

Damnit, Krystel.  You’re dead when I need you.    I miss you a lot when it comes down to things like this.  I don’t have your genius, your editing help or your sense of humor.  You will never be there to see me be published, nor will you be here to get the first autographed copy of my book.  I suppose I will have to just give you a dedication.  God I miss you so hard right now it’s not even funny.  Sometimes I wish death wasn’t so limiting to those still living.

Baby sat at the table and deftly turned the card with only his thumb and forefinger, placing it back on the table as he looked over it intently. His eyes turned up as a small smile crept over his lips. He watched the dark haired man as he slowly strolled in, rounding the corner of the table to look over the younger boy’s shoulder. “The Wheel of Fate,” he vocalized, catching Baby’s attention with a slight dip of his head. “What’s it mean?”

“The Wheel of Fate means change. What goes up must come down. It means that although things are good now, they can always change or, vice versa, what is bad can always turn back up.”

“It’s unfortunate that the Wheel may turn very slowly.”

Baby nodded, making a sound of agreement. “Sometimes. Mine’s been four years.”

Dark eyes shaded black, turning away from the boy who watched him very intently as he rounded the table again and put quite a bit of distance between the pair of them. He took a breath to steel himself and regain the bearings the simple comment had knocked away so easily. “Surely your time here hasn’t been so bad, has it? You’re well fed, clothed and housed. You’ve gotten your GED and you’re attending classes for college. So far your grades have been excellent and you’re doing well at a part time job. It seems to me you’re doing quite well for yourself.”

Baby smirked and let his eyes fall to the table once again, turning over the next card. A woman bearing a set of scales was presented and the boy’s smile grew as he tapped the card, his fingernail clicking against the plasticized card. He drew a breath to speak and said nothing, waiting for Maki to give him the definition of the card he knew was coming. It took him awhile, but eventually, with a sigh, Maki gave in and sat on the stool opposite the expectant boy and turned his eyes to the card again.

“Justice. You will have a favorable outcome in legal matters.” He knew that wouldn’t sate him, but he still looked into the blue orbs as though he were finished.

“And…?”

“If you know, why are you asking me?” he teased, a faint laugh barely kept in check as he leaned away from the table and Baby who had been leaning into him.

“It also means a return on an unfavorable action. The wrongs committed against me will be righted.”

“And what wrongs have been done against you since coming here, hm?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that, do you?” Their eyes met and locked, holding for a long time as Baby put his intent into his stare and Maki resisted pulling away. Baby could see the wheels turning in Maki’s mind before their gaze broke and one long finger gestured at the last remaining card.

Baby turned it over, looking at it himself before he finished turning it over. “All Major Arcana,” he commented lightly as he placed The Lovers very carefully on the table.

“Very powerful,” Maki returned, staring holes through the card and the table to the floor.

“The Lovers. Passion. New love and new beginnings.”

His eyes flicked up, meeting Baby’s with a warning. “Baby, The Lovers also means choosing between duty and your heart.”

“It also means if you choose your heart, things could be better. Choosing duty means it all stays the same.”

“It means intense temptation in the face of one’s morals.”

“It also means a change to happier times. Maki, you’re miserable. You deserve–”

“Happier to what end? If it defies my morals, Baby, then I cannot. It is impossible to live a pleasant life without living wisely and well and justly agreeing ‘neither to harm nor be harmed’, and it is impossible to live wisely and well and justly without living a pleasant life.”

Baby scowled at him. “One who, while himself seeking happiness, oppresses with violence other beings who also desire happiness, will not attain happiness hereafter.”

“Don’t throw quotes back at me, Baby.”

“You’re only upset because I’m right. How long are you going to ignore this?” His fingers flicked over the table and the three cards laid out before them with meaning.

Maki rose from the stool, not meeting Baby’s eyes as he turned to leave. “Until you get over me,” he replied, taking a card off the top of the stack that was tossed down as he turned and walked out. Baby watched him go until he was out of the room and only then did his eyes drop down to the card he’d laid down.

Baby laughed when he was greeted by The Chariot, tracing the man in the golden cart with his finger. “So we both think we’re gonna win, hm? Well, if we both keep going, one of us is going to win, but which one?” He let his index finger rest over the top card on the stack and took a deep breath to decide rather or not he should turn over the other card. “It could mean Maki’s being insecure, which certainly fits and I have self confidence in spades, so…”

Flirting with it for a moment, he turned over another card and put it atop the other. “Hm. So asking for the wrong reasons, am I? Okay.” Baby took a deep breath, letting it slowly slip out through his nose. He wasn’t happy about the results, but he would accept them. It was time for a new journey, but not so much for Maki. Scowling deeply, Baby reached over for another card and, after several moments fingering the top of the next card, he withdrew his hand and rose with a final long look at the cards and wandered out.

Standing on the front porch in the lightly misting rain, one finger pressed the doorbell and waited for an answer.  It had been months since they’d seen one another, their at one time warm romance fading with the hectic schedules they both kept.  The pair of them had kept in touch briefly via online means, one or the other of them poking in now and again on interesting posts or comments that connected them.  In the hassles of work and getting settled in their respective places, xe had put off visits so xe could focus more on their relationship once they were on level ground.  Taking a break in xir schedule, xe had driven in to visit, taking xir sweet time in the doorway before actually pressing the button so xe could run over and over the scenario in xir head before the door was answered.

There was the possibility she wouldn’t be home, the time between seeing one another leaving a gap where the usual familiarity of her schedule would have made timing second nature.  Dancing on the balls of xir feet, xe waited as patiently as possible for the sound of …

Footfalls on the stairs.  She’d been upstairs.  Xe waited for the footfalls to still, gave a moment for her to peer through the blind, then the lock on the door to rattle before the wooden barrier swung open.

Before xe lost xir impetus, xe dove forward, wrapping xir arms clumsily around her neck and pulled her in for a kiss, the relief washing over xir that she was still in the same place doing the same things.  Nothing much had changed.  All was still right in the world and everything could be forgiven and forgotten and moved on upon.

Taking a startled step back, she looked down at the damp brunette standing on her front step with curious eyes.

“God, I’ve missed you so much, I–”

Xe was shocked to hear a voice call down from the upstairs asking who was at the door.  Blue eyes turned up in shock and wonder as realization set in.  Taking a pair of steps back, xe excused xirself and turned back down the street to xir car in escape.

And after fifteen minutes I’m starting to feel dizzy and loopy which means I need to take my happy rump in to bed.  Here’s to more productivity tomorrow.  Night all.

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Meredith nodded.  “Yea, ever since his accident.”

“Accident?”

Maki frowned at Meredith.  “I hadn’t told her about that.”

“Well, it happened.  Why shouldn’t you?”

He started to answer and was cut off.  “What accident?” Jade asked, leaning toward Meredith.

“He was shot on school grounds because some asshole decided it would be a good idea,” she told her with a shrug of one shoulder.  “Really and honestly–”

Maki tuned back out again, focusing his attention inward and tried to search for the little beacon of light that was Leala.  Everyone had a different color and intensity and sometimes their light was very small, but everyone he had come into contact with had a light he could think about, trace through the aether and pinpoint.  Sometimes it took him awhile, but he could always track someone down and once he touched their essence, he could generally have a good idea where they were.  He traced around the different pinpoints closest to him, followed their tendrils that linked them to other people and let his energy lick at theirs before he wandered on.  When he finally found her, the light that was generally a very bright star had dwindled down and appeared very dim despite the large size it generally held.  Frowning, he mentally reached out and stroked the light.

A deep, searing pain spiked through his head and Maki reached up, clutching his head as he reeled back.  Meredith was immediately on her feet and reaching across the table to him and talking very fast.  He couldn’t focus on anything except the intense pain, his eyes blurred with the intensity of it.  Immediately he reached out for Meredith to find a steady hand and when his hand closed over her forearm, he could pull back from the pain.  Once his vision stopped swimming and their eyes met, she frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“Lea.  We gotta find Lea.”  Up from the bench, Maki stumbled out of the cafeteria and then he said fuck this noise and apparated to the Weasley’s hut and boned Ginny.

She went there.  She completely frigging went there.  I DO NOT WRITE HARRY POTTER FANFICTION GODDAMNIT!!

I am participating this year in the NaNoWriMo competition once again and have decided to be an Municipal Liaison for my neck of the woods.  I’ve decided to post my story as I write from start to finish.  There are several reasons for this.  One: I believe it is important to many writers and not just WriMos to see that a story, book, or whatever is not a polished work the minute it leaves your fingers to the keyboard.  There is a LOT of crap that makes NO SENSE at all if the reader were to sit down and actually write.  I want others to know that we’re not putting down 50,000 words of perfect manuscript to page and will be ready to hit the publisher with it come December.

That’s why there’s editing month.

Two: WordPress, as pointed out to me by the lovely Killishandria, has a word counter at the bottom of the page that gives you a word count every time you stop typing and it saves the draft.  This will be extremely helpful once I start having word count goals to attain and don’t want to have to keep hitting the word count button every five minutes to see if I can stop writing for the day.  This takes a little of that pressure off and does it for me.  Not to mention it backs things up again if we end up losing something due to power outage or a keyboard full of coffee.  Which has happened to me once before.

Three: Accountability.  There have been several WriMos who have said they do prewriting.  There have been WriMos who have said to me that they have included things that were previously written in order to bump their word counts.  I like to know that what I do and what I have done is fair as far as beginning a story November 1st and finishing 50,000 words by the 30th.  If I’m posting it here as I get it done, it’s sort of proof that I’m doing it a little at a time and not cheating or blowing smoke.  I’m actually doing this and writing and making myself get over my humps.

I’ve also not been writing to save up the juices for November.  So a lot of my writing has been on hold, not just the story for the WriMo, so I can keep the flow bottled and let it spew in those first few weeks.  I already know how I want the story to start.  It’s just getting where I need to go that’s the problem.  I haven’t gotten that all planned out yet.

So here’s to November that is only 11 days away at this point.

“I’m not gonna ask whatever it is ya did t’yerself t’get this way, I’m just gonna dig it out an’ send ya home t’yer momma,” she threatened, pushing Baby toward a chair.  “Clyde, eat yer dinner.”

The redheaded boy at the small table was picking at his food, waiting until she had bustled off to another room before he slipped from the table and knelt beside Baby’s chair with a concerned look.  “What happened?” he asked quietly, reaching up and touching the older boy’s shoulder.  Baby winced.

“Did somethin’ stupid,” he commented bitterly.  “Shouldn’t have gotten involved but I did and now I might be in some serious trouble.  I just need your mom to dig this bullet out of here for me so I can go to work tonight.  I might not be around much so I don’t get you in trouble with me.”  He looked in the direction Mary Sigan had gone and his eyes flicked back to Clyde.  “Especially with as much as your momma hates Turks.”

Green eyes widened.  “Baby, what did you do?”

He shook his head.  “Threw a rock an’…”  He stopped as Mary came back with an armload of supplies and battled at Clyde to get out of the way.  He went back to the table and picked at his dinner a little more.  The conversation could wait until later.

“I’m not gonna ask what ya did,” she repeated as she tugged at his shirt.  “Get this off so I can get a good look at it.”

Baby obediently skinned out of his shirt, dropping it on the floor beside him.  The woman’s eyes closed and she shook her head, muttering something under her breath.  “Here, swig this an’ then bite down on this.”  The first was a bottle of whisky and the second was a strap of leather.  Baby took a healthy swallow of the amber liquid, his breath stolen as the burn set in and he nearly dropped the cork for the top.  He handed it back to her and tucked the strap between his teeth.  He tucked his left hand under his leg to keep it from jerking and his right hand gripped the arm of the chair hard.  With a single nod, he turned away, staring toward the door of the house as she cleaned the wound enough to even see what was going on.

“Yer damned lucky it didn’t hit somethin’ vital, Baby Boy,” she groused, rubbing at the damaged skin with a swab.  “A few centimeters in either way an’ you’d’ve bled out ‘fore ye ever got here.”  She worked quickly, obviously not the first bullet she’d dug out of somebody.  Once she realized the bullet had lodged back by his shoulderblade, she cursed rather loudly and turned over her shoulder.  “Clyde, run an’ grab the long tweezers outta the cabinet.”

Without a word he was on his feet, bringing them back as soon as he’d located them.  She doused them in a bowl with alcohol and iodine while she carefully held the skin back.  “How far back were ye from the shooter, eh?”

“He was in a building. I was on the street.”  Each word was ground out around the strap, the nerves singing as she worked.

“What did you do??” she asked, eyes flicking up at him before she picked up the tweezers.  “On second thought, don’t answer that.”  Not giving him time to respond, she went in for the bullet.

Baby clamped down on the leather, his throat clenching hard as a scream threatened to roll forward.  Although she hadn’t, he swore to all things Holy that she’d just jabbed the things in there and was rooting for buried gold.  When she bumped it, he knew, growling like a wild animal around the tightly clenched teeth that barely held in a primal scream.  Okay, so this hurt a hell of a lot more than he ever thought it would.  Actually getting shot hadn’t hurt as much as getting the damned bullet out again.  At least he’d had adrenaline going to counteract the pain of actually being shot.  That had just been like being stung by the mother of all wasps and went numb not long afterward.  It hadn’t started throbbing until he’d managed to get back on the train and as long as he focused on breathing he was fine until he’d gotten to Mary’s.

The tweezers closed around the bullet and she pulled it out, checking it over to see if there were fragments that could be missing.  Cursing loudly, she went back in again, feeling for the pieces she was missing.

The first time he could handle it.  The second dive drained all the color from his face.  Thankfully Clyde had been paying attention and scooted around his mother to catch him as he lost consciousness.

When he finally clawed his way out of the wet blanket that left him with a horrible headache and feeling nauseous, he could hear Mary having a rather heated discussion with someone at the front door.  He wasn’t in the front room anymore.  Someone had carried him into one of the bedrooms.  Without thinking, he reached up and touched his shoulder, immediately regretting the impulse as pain seared through his chest and down his arm.  At least now he had feeling down his arm.  Before he’d been worried it had severed something.  Clumsily he flexed the fingers of his left hand and wiggled them around before he sat up, clutching his head as it swam and tried to regain his sense of upright before he stood and ambled out to the front room to find out what was going on.

Standing in the doorway were two men in dark suits, sending Baby scurrying back behind the doorway in the kitchen to stay out of sight.  They’d tracked him here.  Damn, he’d probably left them a fucking blood trail all the way to the house!  Stupid!

Feeling a presence behind him, Baby wheeled back and almost knocked into Clyde.  “What’d ya do that ya got Turks after ya?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“I threw a rock at the President,” Baby answered, turning to peek back out at the men Mary was fending off.  “I threw a rock to keep him from getting shot and I bet they think I’m an accomplice or something.  Fuck.  I shouldn’t have come here.”

“If you hadn’t you woulda bled to death,” Clyde answered, rolling his eyes.  “Don’t worry about it, momma’s got it covered.  She’ll get rid of ‘em and you can get out of here and go home.”

Somehow he didn’t think that was the end of it, but he figured if there was any time to beat a hasty retreat, it was now.  “I gotta go, Clyde.  I’ll see you in a couple of weeks if they don’t grab me first.”  Giving him a quick peck on the lips, something they’d done since they were little, Baby turned and ran back to the bedroom and ducked out the window, taking off down the street.

Since he’d left the train, Baby had spent a lot of time looking up at things, seeing the sky and the sun and the people who were in lawn chairs atop buildings to watch President Shinra speak.  It was to be a rather momentous occasion, the unveiling of some big product for whatever new thing the company had produced but Baby didn’t know what it was.  He just wanted an excuse to spend money, take the train and get out in the sun for awhile and this was as good an excuse as any.  Finding a good place to lie back without being trampled, he dropped down onto the ground and lay back to soak up the rays, watching the building tops sway with the heat.

He didn’t budge until the bustle of the street picked up around him and he pulled himself up to find something to eat.  After a few minutes he found a rolling cart with hot dogs and picked one up for more than it was worth, but since it was the cheapest thing around, he took it and ate it eagerly, picking a new place to stand and watch as the stage was populated by a few people checking over last minute details.  A band began playing and rousing the crowd that had gathered around the stage.  A dull roar filled the courtyard as people chatted amongst themselves, drowning out specific words in favor of a full, wavelike sound as voices rose and fell.  Baby finished off the last bite, sucking the ends of his fingertips before wiping his hand off on his pants and looked over the single podium and the black suited men who walked out onto the stage along the back in a row, most likely some sort of defense for the President.

After a few minutes the fanfare swelled and two men entered the stage, followed by the President and his young son and then closed by two more bodyguards.  As the President took the stage, the band continued playing, the director waiting for a signal to stop so he could begin his no doubt well practiced speech.  The crowd gained a little intensity, all expectantly turned to the stage and pressing in for a better view.  Baby kept toward the back along the curb, quite a distance away from the procession and the hum of the crowd.  He enjoyed people watching.  People were funny creatures and he liked watching families interacting with one another and strangers speaking to one another and pulling away to form other cliques in the mass of moving bodies.

A flash of light drew his attention, probably from a mirror.  At that angle, though, he knew it had to be coming from somewhere.  He skimmed along the crowd and along the buildings to the tops where several people were still sitting and standing.  None of them appeared to have anything that would make the little shining flicker he saw.  His eyes continued roving, turning back to the stage to try and follow the angle it might have come from when a small dot appeared on the President who had taken his place at the podium.  As soon as it flashed, it was gone again.

Baby wasn’t stupid.  He knew well enough when someone was drawing a bead.  His eyes flicked to the building he’d been staring at all morning, catching just a hint of a man who might be up to something.  The barrel was along the windowsill, a second man kneeling and staying low.  Blue eyes flashed between the man and the President and to the men standing around him.  None of them were even aware.  An entire crowd of people were about to watch a man be shot and killed and his guards weren’t even aware.

If he shouted he’d be ignored, unable to be heard over the crowd.  Trying to run to the stage from this distance to tell someone would take too much time.  His thoughts raced faster, grasping at straws until dancing eyes touched on a broken chunk of the curbing.  No more time to think.  The barrel of the gun in the window shifted, the man getting in position.  The band was dying down.  There was the three second bead before it flashed off again.  No more time.  Act or let a man die. Baby picked up the chunk of concrete and hurled it, hoping his aim was true.

Right on the mark, the chunk struck him in the head, two of the Turks grabbing him and pulling him down just as the first shot rang out, hitting one of the Turks who was in a direct line behind the President.  Two of the men spied Baby, following where the flying chunk had come from.  Baby danced back, eyes wide.  He hadn’t thought about what would happen when they figured out what he’d done.  Nobody would believe him if he told them what happened.  His eyes flicked back up to the window, eyes widening impossibly when he saw the gun pointed in his direction, the man not bothering to still hide.  Baby ducked and ran to the side, sending the two Turks running from the stage after him.  Another shot rang out, barely missing the boy as he turned back up at the shooter and held his arms out.  If the Turks came for him, they’d see where the shot had come from.

Pulling with his fingers, he egged the shooter on, knowing there was no way in hell he could have the devil’s luck again.  The two suited men were nearly atop of him when another shot rang out, Baby dodging again and nowhere near as lucky this time as before.  The shot nailed him in the shoulder, knocking him onto his back.  Both Turks turned and spun, one of them drawing a handgun and taking a shot at the man in the window.  The second of the men was gone, but the shooter took a direct hit, crumpling over the windowsill.  Baby, on the other hand, took the opportunity to get back to his feet and run like hell.  There was no way in hell he was letting any suit get their hands on him.  He was not going down as an accomplice.