“Shit,” he gasped, “Fuck,” he took a deep breath, “This is fucked up.”
Yeah, no shit.
He stumbled towards Lori’s body and he nudged her twice with his foot. Yep. No doubt about it—deader than a door nail. God-fuckin’-damnit!
This kept on happening to him. He kept on doing it! This was the third body to his name in nearly as many days! When he had killed Parker…he had been going for Blaise! When he shot Myles…it was because Myles had shot him first! Now Lori…Lori attacked him! Doped up and drugged up and going for a fuckin’ weapon!
Shooting her hadn’t been a bad choice, it had been the
only choice. But how could he explain this shit? One kill, maybe. Two kills, pushing it. But three? What would Ace think if he ran into Ace?
“Fuck,” he sputtered, “Shit,” he cursed, “Everybody is gonna think I’m fuckin’-- playin this, goddamn, stupid,” he couldn’t get the words out, “Uggggh! This fuckin’ sucks!”
Three times a murderer. There could be no mistaking it now—when people saw him, they would see the bodies and the number next to him. Ace would have to fight. Ace was gonna get killed by someone thinking they were doing a good deed. By somebody seeking justice. They were gonna get it. When Ace was gunned down…he was going to deserve it.
“What the fuck do I do?! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”
Beats knew what he had to do. He had done it two times before.
Ace grabbed her flashlight first and then her gun. Another pistol for his collection. It looked like WW2 shit. Beats went to her bag next and unceremoniously unzipped it and emptied it’s contents onto the Shoetree floor. He took her weapons. All her supplies. Her
drugs. Beats left Hunter on the floor. George Hunter forever. No need to disrespect the Owl like that.
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered to himself, “I need to get the fuck outta here.”
He thought for a moment and took out the BR-18 before also grabbing the straps of Lori’s bag and ripping it off. The BR-18 strap had been used to strangle Ramsey. It was his best weapon but it had been cumbersome to hold. In the dark with a flashlight trapped under his chin he created a new strap out of the straps of Lori’s bag. He slung the weapon over his good shoulder. Beats reloaded the Kel-Tec and put it back in his waistband. Ace loaded the .45 and put it in his right pocket. Lori’s pistol went in his left. Her other gun, a spare, remained in his bag. Also that big ass ancient rifle. Ace felt like a comic book hero or some shit with all these guns on him.
They didn't make him feel safe...but they made him feel dangerous. He had more guns than clothes.
“This ain’t how it’s s’posed to go,” Ace whispered, “This ain’t who I’m s’posed to be.”
[ Ace Beats Continued In: The Gift My Father Gave Me pt. 2 ] 
