The chopper’s noise was muffled through the thick smoke blanketing Manhattan, and Paz wouldn’t shut the fuck up about his favourite taqueria in Brooklyn. The rest of the team had long since tuned him out, but it was like nails on chalkboard of Gabriel’s soul.
“Listen, listen, if these metal fuckers haven’t wiped it out, holy shit, the carnitas, man.” the guy kept saying. “LISTEN.”
Gabriel was all for delicious meat products, but if Paz didn’t shut the fuck up, he was going to find his ass dumped out over the remains of the Chrysler Building. He was new. Afraid. He kept talking as if it would make the fear go away.
Gabriel envied him in a way. If nothing else, SEP had ripped the fear out of them by the roots and salted the earth left behind with the memory of their treatments.
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