I kneel on the floor beside Saxon, steeling myself. Hurting someone trying to hurt me in a fight? Easy. Causing Saxon pain? Not so easy.
Gritting my teeth, I use my free hand to flatten and spread the area taut, trying like hell not to think about how firm and luscious the man's ass is. I'd take a bite out of it, in other circumstances.
Focus, Terra. Cut the thing open.
I draw the tip of the knife partway around the circumference of the Sharpie'd circle, creating a flap. Saxon doesn't so much as hiss or twitch.
"Tweezers or pliers or something?" I ask.
A few moments later, Luka hands me a pair of expensive, fancy-looking electronic-repair style tweezers, still hot from being torched.
Using the tip of the knife to hold the flap away, I dig into the open…meat, I suppose…with the tweezers. Saxon breathes out sharply through his nose at this, but that's it. After a bit of squeamish digging, the tweezers meet resistance—something hard.
"Got you, little fucker," I mutter.
"Hey, I say this first," Luka teases.
"Hush, you." I don’t look at him, focusing on my work.
It takes some delicate tweezer work, but I eventually manage to pinch something hard and pull it free—and again, I’m trapped in a James Bond movie. The thing is exactly what it would be in a movie—a tiny cylinder a little bigger than a grain of rice, metal caps on either end with glass in the middle, and a microchip embedded in the glass.
“No shit," I breathe. "I legit thought he was making shit up."
"Is very high-end technology," Luka says, his voice oddly strained. "I should know. I make them."
"Why do you think I came to you?" Saxon growls, a note of tension in his voice the only indication that he feels anything.
"Because I am the best."
"Exactly. But mainly because I knew you likely were the creator." He glances over his shoulder. "Okay, tape me up, babe. We gotta go."
I let the flap close, dab away the blood with a bandage, and then use a butterfly to close it in two places, covering the area with another square of bandage.
Saxon rolls to his feet, wincing as he tugs his pants up. "Stings like a bitch."
"Well no shit, tough guy. I just cut a hole in your ass cheek." I pat the other side, the unhurt one. "Shame to scar such a fine piece of man-meat."
He winks at me. "You can kiss it all better later."
"Gladly," I murmur.
"Okay, okay. Show is over. No lovey business here. Go away." Luka regards the device on the table in front of him. "I will dispose of this."
"Can you make it go somewhere else?" Saxon asks. "Confuse them? Give us a head start?"
Luka's face lights up. "Timmy has been training for this for long time."
"Timmy?" I ask.
Saxon shrugs.
Luka vanishes into a back corner and comes back with a big white rat in his hands. It's the size of a small cat, with a skinny, wormlike, hairless tail and beady red eyes.
I fight the urge to scream and climb on the table. "That's Timmy?"
The rat scurries up Luka's arm, onto his shoulder, and noses his ear, then perches with its little hand-paw-things in front.
It's not cute.
