Thanks for everyone being patient with this upload, my internet was down for a few months, it seemed even longer than it was. I'd like to once again thank all of the people who reviewed my story, it keeps encouraging me to write even more. And most of all I'd like to thank my wonderful editor, Patricia Sage. Enough with this already, on with the show!

"What the hell do you want now?"

It wasn't supposed to be an actual question, but apparently Spade couldn't get that through his thick skull. Before he had a chance to respond, I jumped up and gathered my jacket and hat off the sidewalk. I was careful not to lose any of the money—not that it would be of any use now.

I threw the coat over my shoulder and turned my back to the man, trudging away from him. I felt sick, light-headed. What just happened? I mean, talk about mixed signals. On the elevator Spade had seemed like he genuinely cared for me, but now… I frowned, trying to wipe any emotion from off of my face.

No point in dwelling on things that can't be changed, I scolded myself. I clenched my right hand into a tight fist and closed my eyes to rein in the feelings creeping up through my chest. It was getting late and I wasted a whole day with nothing to show for it. The school was going to phone home and I'd be suspended for fighting. Not to mention, my father would never trust me again…and it was hard enough to earn his trust after the first time.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and instinctively spun around, swinging my arm forwards. My fist hit something solid, and I could feel my nails pierce the skin of my palm. Spade had caught my hand in his, stopping my punch in its tracks. In reaction to the sudden pain (and nothing else), my eyes started to tear up, so I turned away again. I swore under my breath for showing weakness in front of that bastard, but that didn't stop him from approaching me.

"Oh! Sorry, kid…" Spade spoke hesitantly as he apologized, letting go of my arm and sticking his hands in his jacket pockets. I didn't look at him. Using all of my willpower, I slowly lowered my hand and opened my fist. A thin line of crimson blood dripped from my hand, falling onto the pavement like paint staining a blank easel. Frowning once again in annoyance and discomfort, I wiped my hand on my shirt, which left a darker patch on the already faded red fabric.

"Can't leave me alone, can you?" I snapped at him with a spiteful smile creeping slowly across my face, "You have to kick a kid while he's down, is that it? You have to come down here and make positively sure that I'm stuck here suffering while you—" My tirade was cut off by an object being pushed into my arms. My jaw dropped; I was speechless.

"You left this in that shop back there." The edges of Spade's mouth twitched like he was trying not to smirk at me. He waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts, his clear grey eyes analysing my reaction.

What just happened? Maybe I did end up getting punched out by that wimp Mike. Maybe I got run down by a bus? Was an asteroid supposed to hit the Earth today? I shook my head, pulling myself back into reality.

"I didn't leave it there," I managed to say, "I, well, I mean…I didn't buy it." I gave him my best who-does-this-guy-think-he-is face, which he raised an eyebrow at.

Spade frowned slightly. "You didn't buy it," he agreed, and I nodded because he was finally starting to make sense, not talking nonsense. Then he added, "But it's yours, so I got it for you." He casually stuck his hands back into his pockets, waiting for yet another response. I froze up, unsure of exactly what he expected of me. After a few more seconds of me waiting for the camera crew from Punked to show up, Spade sighed. "I couldn't help but overhear you when I was walking by the store. You were talking about how you couldn't afford the bow, and—"

I winced slightly, and snarled back at him, "Hey, don't—"

"Just listen, boy." He looked me up and down, as if he were dealing with a grumpy German Shepard on the bad side of the fence. "When you left, I went inside and bought this set." He smiled so genuinely that I was caught off guard. The expression didn't seem to match his rough exterior. "It's your bow."

My heart sank and I shook my head, shoving the equipment back in his direction, "No thanks. I can't take this." I thought back to when I was younger, when my father would give me long lectures about having to earn the things I got; about rights, responsibilities, and consequences. I kicked a loose stone on the pavement and watched it clatter onto the road towards the storm grate. The toughest part about this whole thing was that I wanted that bow so badly, but I simply couldn't morally allow myself to accept it.

Spade must have mistaken my posture for anger. "Keep it Barton," he smirked, pushing it back into my grasp. He looked from his watch back to me, as if he had somewhere to be. "But, if it bothers you that much..." he materialized a piece of paper from one of his coat pockets and placed it inside the quiver. "Let's say you owe me. You can work off the cost. Meet me at this address, 5 o'clock sharp." He then walked past me as I stared at him in stunned silence. He called out without turning around, "See you around, kid."

I opened the apartment door and kicked off my shoes with a huff. Who does that guy think he is? Yes, I'm way younger than he is, but he doesn't have to act so stuck-up. I kicked the door shut behind me and the door slammed with such force that the pictures on the wall bounced slightly. I took the strap that held the quiver in place and carefully put it, along with the bow, on the kitchen counter. Even though I'm mad as hell, there's no way I'd risk damaging it.

I threw my hat and jacket on the floor, then collapsed on the couch. The clock on the wall kept creeping closer to 5. I frowned. My father was working late at least; I might get away with this. Maybe. I covered my face with my hands. Why me? I admit, I may be trouble sometimes, but even I didn't deserve this…

I opened my eyes and saw the face smiling down at me, slightly concerned. "Sorry, Mom," I said, "But I'm going through with it." Her faded blue eyes, which were almost always filled with kindness, had a trace of doubt that even she couldn't hide. "Don't look at me like that—I'll be fine… Don't worry about me. I'm okay; I'm all grown up…" My voice cracked, and I suddenly felt like an idiot.

"And I'm talking to nobody." The blonde haired woman in the sepia toned frame, which had been hanging over the television set for years, stared blankly into space. Pictures tended to do that.

I cleared my throat, and decided to something else—other than acting crazy—to fill my time. I marched into the kitchen and checked the messages on the phone. One messages from my father reminding me to make something to eat for tonight, one from school explaining my suspension (which mysteriously got deleted), and one with terrible sound quality. As far as I could tell, it was a woman. That's the only thing I got from that message, it sounded like she was standing in the middle of a construction site…probably a wrong number.

After that was done, I tried to distract myself with other things, but nothing worked. Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I gave in and walked over to the bow sitting on the counter-top, gleaming tantalizingly.

I carefully took an arrow out of the quiver and examined it. When I saw this set in the window, I knew there was something odd about it. The arrow's shaft was thin, thinner than what I was used to working with, but that wasn't what threw me off. At the tip, it was flat and dull. I frowned slightly, and took out a different arrow. It had a normal point, so I breathed a sigh of relief. The other wasn't defected; it was just a training arrow, so I didn't shot anyone accidentally! I put the second arrow away, and concentrated on the first one. Why would a training arrow be mixed in with the others?

As I stared at the useless tip on the arrow, I got that feeling that somebody was watching me. I quickly looked out the kitchen window and in time to see the old woman scowling at me from the apartment across mine. I glared right back. She was always calling my father at work or coming to our place after he got home. She thought it was her job to tell him if I was doing anything "reckless" or "stupid" while he was gone. Maybe she thought of herself as a concerned-grandmother-type…maybe she simply hated me. It didn't make any difference to me; I just found her annoying.

I waved patronizingly at her, making her scowl even more. Yeah…don't really think she's much of a concerned grandmother… I grinned wickedly and picked up my flat arrow. I waved it in front of the window like a toreador taunting a bull, hoping she thought I was crazy. When she realized what it was, her eyes went wide. I chuckled darkly before grabbing the shaft of the arrow with my right hand and closing my eyes. This would teach her to spy on me.

I stabbed the tip of the arrow to my chest; it would have pierced my skin if it were sharper. Instead, I felt a shock go through my body. My knees buckled out from underneath me, and I hit the linoleum flooring hard. I dropped the arrow and lay there, catching my breath, until I stopped seeing spots. "Ouch."

I sat up slowly and my eyes caught the weapon that had rolled out of my grasp. I leaned over and held it carefully with a new appreciation. I jumped up and closed the blinds, tired of people staring at me like I was crazy.

The rest of the quiver was still a mystery to me, so I emptied it out onto the counter for inspection. There were five different shapes of arrows, including the flat one. I was tempted to see if they were as effective as the first one, but I had a feeling I'd have to check them out later…or at least find a different test subject. My arms were still tingling from that ordeal.

I sorted the arrows into groups, but couldn't stop myself from picking up the flat one, once again. I shook my head, amazed at how—literally—stunning it was. In fact, it was slightly difficult to set it to the side, since I was slowly regaining feeling in my limbs.

The second group of arrows was completely normal; I swear, I couldn't find anything weird about them. Actually, they were just like the ones I was used to working with. The third group included arrows like the first, except they had a black tip, rough like it was carved out of rock. I was tempted to hit them against the wall to see what would happen, but I pushed that thought out of my head. The fourth arrow made me smile. It was shaped like a heart and, before I could stop myself, I pictured me dressed up in a pink diaper frolicking around on Valentine's Day, shooting arrows at people. I grinned and shook my head. As long as I could help it, that was not going to happen.

The last arrow confused me. It looked like a miniature hockey puck was glued onto the shaft, which weighted it heavily towards the tip. But, how was it supposed to shoot straight? I had enough trouble with normal arrows. It took a closer inspection before I got it and then I involuntarily gasped. This was not a toy. The small blinking light on the side told me that much. This could do some damage… I thought to myself darkly.

I checked the quiver to make sure that I didn't forget any arrows, and saw a small slip of paper on the bottom. Right, Spade had left that for me…to pay my dues. I frowned and picked it up.

1421 BLOCK WEST APP. 129

Wait, what time did he say he wanted me to meet him? I pictured his eyes, an icy grey, as he said, Meet me at this address, 5 o'clock sharp.

Shit!

I frantically looked to the clock. 5:03pm. Maybe this clock's fast. I thought to myself as a grabbed my jacket and slipped on my shoes without tying the laces. He won't even notice. Even through the feeling of panic in my chest, I smiled as I ran out of the apartment and to the streets once more.

Well, I hope you liked this chapter as much as the other ones, hopefully it won't take as long to get the next one published!

-Alex