Action: Pulse Pounding Tales Volume 2

YOU ONLY DIE ONCE By Rhesa Sealy

There’s something in the air today. The gentle caressing of something dark, Jaxx feels as he props against the tombstone watching the casket slowly sink into the hole. That’s the thing with death, eventually it claims you; there are no exceptions. Popping the collar of his coat, he scans the group wondering once again if any of them really care or if it’s just all an act.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me,” he says, turning to look at his broker, bodyguard in tow.

She gives him a seductive look before flicking her hand, dismissing her man. Stepping closer, she looks past him to the group. Jaxx looks up to sky, waiting.

“What can I say, Jaxx, it would only be a lie.”

A snigger comes from him, knowing he’ll never trust her. He can always rely on her to tell the truth, most of the time, that’s why she brokers the jobs.

“Interesting place to have a chat, don’t you think?”

She smiles, but says nothing. She leans against the tombstone watching as the priest flips open the bible.

“Funerals are interesting, you can learn a lot from them,” she says, to no one in particular.

Jaxx glances back at the scene again, “Who’s the body?”

“No one you need worry about.”

“Fine, so why am I here?”

“Interested in doing some work?”

“What’s the job?”

She pulls out a tablet and hands it over, “Nothing too complicated. A bullet to the head and the pay is good.”

He scrolls through the file. Jesus. The pay was more than good. This job would have him set for life, if he took it.

The woman turns away from the scene as someone begins to speak. Jaxx tears his attention away to look back at the woman beside him.

“When?”

“Three days from now. All you have to do is make it public.”

“I want half upfront, the rest upon delivery.”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, looking up, “Now that our business is concluded, I’ll see you around.”

He grabs her wrist as she starts to walk away and pulls her close, “Not so fast.”

A smile comes to her lips. She gets to her tiptoes and plants a kiss on him.

Three days later…

It is all about the feel of the trigger pull. The sound only a precision suppressor can make as a bullet travels through the chamber, exiting. The beauty is in the art of the kill not the kill itself. For Jaxx, it is all about the visceral act. The cash is just the bonus.

Double-checking the sight and the wind, Jaxx takes a calming breath and settles in. A twitchy finger means death in Jaxx’s business. A twitch means a man is too old for the game, and Jaxx can wait all day for this target. I could hang up the gun. The thought of retirement seems odd to him, but a few years off-grid, it’s a much better idea.

The woman comes to his mind, and he wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have vetted this job a little more than clothes off. It’s too late now. Bora Bora here he comes, and with a couple of busty beauties. He adjusts the scope and re-checks the wind, and waits.

Fifteen minutes later, an understated black Escalade pulls up across the street. Looking through the scope as the target comes into view, Jaxx breathes. The trigger pull, and the target is dead. The woman holding onto his arm stares down at the body for a moment. The scream escapes seconds later.

Jaxx doesn’t stay to watch the scene as the gun is dissembled in seconds, and is shoved into a bag. The single casing near his foot, retrieved. Slinging the duffle over his shoulder, Jaxx exits the room two minutes later. A block away, he hails a taxi.

“Where to buddy?”

“Union Station.”

The driver pulls the vehicle back into traffic. Jaxx grabs his cell from his back pocket and slumps into the seat. He presses send. A few minutes later, a smile comes to his face as the remaining cash appears in his account.

Two years later…

He had long put this city in his rear-view mirror, long since hung up the gun. Yet, some cities have this way of sucking a person back in. Some for the romance of it, others for the sheer sadistic pleasure of watching you squirm. This city was the latter and happily twisting the knife.

Jaxx counts the windows of the condo across the street. It helps him stay in control; but nothing stops the gut-burning rage in his belly. He wants to kill someone in the worse way. He’s growing restless. The sound of the door opening and closing causes him to look round.

She’s wearing leather and high heels, walking authority as she approaches. Her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail giving the impression of a classy, sophisticated dominatrix, but he knows better. She’s not a woman you submit to unless you have a death wish. She’s not a woman to cross.

Behind her, her right-hand man: Sergey. The Russian soldier with the stars to prove he wasn’t to be taken lightly. With the slightest of nods from his boss, he is ready to kill.

Sergey stops a few feet away as she continues towards Jaxx. When she reaches, a hand slides up his arm and along his shoulder stirring old, pleasant memories.

“Been a while, Jaxx.”

“Maybe too long.”

“Perhaps, but you may make appropriate apologies for it,” she purrs.

Lowering his head, he captures her lips. She parts them invitingly. God I want her, he thinks, but this is a business call, not a personal one.

Pulling back, she gives a throaty, sensual chuckle that always manages to get under his skin. Goddamn, thinks Jaxx. The snapping of her fingers pulls him out of his fantasy.

Sergey steps forward, producing a tablet and scrolls through until he finds what he needs and hands it over. The woman smiles reviewing the contents before handing it to Jaxx, but as he reaches for it, she playfully pulls it away.

“Thought we had a deal?” he asks.

“Not – so – fast, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Another one.”

“A better one, darling.”

“I think you should stop trying to offer me better ones.”

She pouts, “You can’t honestly blame me for that, can you?”

Jaxx eyes the Russian while wondering what game she is playing as the twinkle in her eye only provokes him.

“Name it.”

“It would appear the immovable object you are gunning for has a mutual benefit for me,” she says, handing the tablet over.

He looks at the screen, “You can’t be serious.”

“I never joke about a business opportunity. Do this for me, darling and I’m your debt.”

“Brave move.”

“Strategically sound. No one will consider my involvement in this shit show. They’ll see you coming. Besides, if there’s going to be a head bitch, it may as well be me. I don’t see the problem for you,” she says.

“You don’t?”

The conversation is over. She spins on her heel with the bodyguard close behind. He glances out the window. Looking back over his shoulder in time to watch her stop at the door and smile back.

“I always knew you were the man to bet on, Jaxx. So if you have doubts, don’t. I always say vengeance is best served with a side of payback, and what pay back it’ll be at your hand. Besides, they deserve what’s coming. Ciao.”

She blows a kiss as she struts out of the room. Jaxx looks at the information on the tablet again. Scrolling back to the image of the two men shaking hands only strengthens his resolve. The woman is right; they both deserve what he is about to do.

Jaxx reaches his apartment when he notices the guy suddenly, turning around heading in the opposite direction, taking off out the exit stairwell door. Jaxx gives chase, realizing the guy was probably supposed to watch him. Slamming through the door a second later, and giving a quick listen, he hears feet running downward. Jaxx heads down two steps at a time.

“Hey!!”

Jaxx doesn’t expect the guy to answer, to stop for a quick chat followed by a pummeling. He just keeps running. Surprisingly, the sounds of ricocheting bullets don’t follow. Obviously, his orders were only to spy on Jaxx.

Emerging outside into an alleyway, Jaxx catches an unexpected fist to the side of his face. Spitting blood, a pissed off Jaxx realizes his recklessness could have cost him his life. The other guy gives Jaxx a sinister smirk, throwing another fist. Jaxx gets a hand up to block the punch, placing a solid upper cut to the guy’s chin. He follows it up with a left jab, a right straight and a left hook.

The little shit stumbles back, wiping the blood from his nose.

“That all you got old man?”

“Got more than you think, you piece of shit.”

The kid laughs, shuffling forward, raising his fists.

“Bring it on,” Jaxx growls.

Jaxx ducks the first swing, but takes a solid shot to the gut. The kid has some skills, Jaxx notices as the little shit lands another combination. Jaxx shoves him back earning an amused laugh from the punk-ass kid. Jaxx next blocks an onslaught of ill-placed fury blinding shots, while staying low.

“Come on, old man! Show me what you got!” the kid shouts.

Jaxx steps back, grinning, “Your death.”

He gets low, staying under the swinging fists of the punk kid. Seeing his opening, Jaxx shoves the guy away and in the same move, reaches into his back pocket, clicking the switchblade out and jams it straight into the kid’s belly, giving it a twist.

The kid’s eyes widen as Jaxx grabs him by the throat, jamming him up against the wall. Jaxx twists the blade again, and the kid starts to pale.

“Who sent you?”

The kid shakes his head as a grunt escapes his mouth. Jaxx twists the blade yet again.

“Tell me.”

The kid has balls, Jaxx realizes, pulling the blade from his gut and stepping back. Catching his breath, Jaxx watches him.

“You think you should be afraid of your employer and what they’ll do if you talk?”

“I got nothing to say,” he says.

“Okay, but for the record, you should have been more afraid of me.”

The kid’s eyes bulges, as he slumps down the wall. Jaxx steps forward, crouching down in front of him, grabbing the punk by the cheeks and lifts his head.

“Kill me,” he whispers.

Jaxx smiles, “That’s the plan. I’ll kill you all, you goddamn bastards.”

Back in his apartment, the kid didn’t give up anything. Jaxx stares at his reflection in the mirror. Despite how barbaric hand-to-hand combat was, it felt good killing someone connected to his would-be assassination and to what happened to his sister. Drying his face, Jaxx exits the washroom heading to the kitchen. He grabs a beer, walks over to the window, looking out. He’s alert, scanning everyone on the street, making certain no more attackers are lurking.

Thinking back, Jaxx recalls how quickly his life changed. One moment he’s in Bora Bora in bed with an exotic beauty, the next he’s taking cover as the hut is sprayed with bullets. Amateurs, he thinks.

Jaxx sighs, remembering when he woke in the hospital. A petite brunette in a white doctor’s coat looked down at him. Her green eyes weren’t the typical plain-Jane green. There was depth and glints of what appeared to be lavender in them. Closing his eyes, he can picture her body, liking every curve of it.

“Mr. Drake.”

“Yeah.”

She walked over to the chart stashed in a bend at the front of the bed and skimmed it. Jaxx watched her until she flipped it closed and then pulled a stool close to his bed. The scent Chanel 5 assaulted his senses and for a moment, he couldn’t help think about what she’d be like in bed.

He smirks, watching a car drive down the street below as his thoughts drift back.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Not your fault. So?”

“It’s what we in the profession call a miracle. We are still not sure how or why, the bullet didn’t penetrate the skull into the soft brain tissue. From what we know, you should be dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She flushed, “I didn’t mean…”

“No worries, tell me the rest.”

She was quiet for a moment, but nodded, “Of course, you suffered severe intracranial hemorrhaging. Which we managed to stop and you lost a lot of blood. This is why you lapsed into a coma.”

“How long was I out?”

“Six months. I’ll be honest. You have some difficult days ahead to make a full recovery, but I think there’s a strong possibly of you doing just that,” she said.

Jaxx tears his thoughts away from that time. He understood the risks, one day you do the hunting the next you’re the hunted. Messages that had to be delivered, but this didn’t bother him. He too delivered messages, deadly ones; no this is life pure and simple, an assassin’s life. It didn’t mean he had to accept it, especially when lines were crossed. They shouldn’t have touched my sister. Moving away from the window, Jaxx heads to his room. Grabbing a burner phone from off the dresser, he punches in a number.

“It’s me.”

Patri shifts looking over at the desk where his father sits, letting a smile creep onto his face, knowing soon the old fucker would be dead. The thought excited him.

“Idiot, you idiot,” his father roars in Russian.

“Father,” Patri says.

“Don’t father me, you are no son of mine,” Vicktor Nikoliski yells, slamming a fist on the desk. He jabs a thin finger at him, “A friggin’ disgrace, you are a disgrace.”

“I…”

“Fucked up everything, you and your stupidity.”

Vicktor glares at him. Patri shrugs.

“Calm yourself Vick,” American born, Wentworth Jordon, says as he pockets his Blackberry. “So the dimwit slaps around some little bitch. These things will blow over, and if she causes trouble, she can always meet God.”

The man gives a sinister chuckle. Patri hates him, even more now that they are grown. Vicktor sighs heavily. Wentworth grins at him and Patri feels the urge to get up and bash in his face, but remains seated.

“Wentworth, our business partners will not want to push ahead with our arrangement if they think we are associated with abusers, my own fucking blood,” Vicktor counters.

The entrepreneur chuckles retrieving the Blackberry, typing, “You worry too much. I’ve already arranged to have someone chat with the girl. I do suggest you put your incompetent son some place where he can’t do any more damage until we close this deal. We’ll make a billion with the Chinese when it’s done.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Patri says.

“Of course you are, Patty. I bet you even got off on it, huh? Sick bastard you are. You did, didn’t you?”

“Enough,” Vicktor says, pressing his fingers together, looking over at his son.

This is who will take over upon my death? The thought sickens Vicktor.

“Son, it would appear you will be taking a vacation.”

His father’s words did not faze him. Patri merely smiles, because at least Maxine knew the truth, so he held his tongue. For he knew he would soon be King.

Late that night, Jaxx rides through the busy streets, until he reaches the rendezvous. Kicking the stand down on the motorcycle, Jaxx takes off his helmet, surveying the area before starting down the alley. A man’s face flashes crimson as he strikes a match to light his cigarette. He looks up when Jaxx clears his throat.

“’Bout time, man.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been busy,” Jaxx says, reaching into a pocket and producing an envelope.

The other man checks the cash, gives a nod, tucking the envelope away. He next reaches inside his jacket, producing a manila file. Jaxx opens it up and reads.

“You sure, you want to do this?”

“Got no choice, they messed with my blood.”

“Copy that. It’ll be like a great wall of China to get to them,” the man says.

“It won’t matter, they’re all dead,” Jaxx growls slapping shut the file.

“Well rumour is Wentworth and Vicktor are planning a deal with Tao Chan.”

“Tao Chan, the property developer?”

“Same one. It’ll legitimize them, so goes the rumour mill. Those two are all about the money and Chan brings boat loads to the table, plus the legitimacy of it.”

Jaxx folds his arms. “It’s always about the money. So where is he?”

The guy flicks the cigarette away, “Wentworth? He’s staying at the Skylark.”

“Thanks,” Jaxx says, walking away.

Jaxx gets in the Skylark Hotel with no difficulty and heads up. Pulling free his guns, he steps onto the floor, carefully making his way to the villa suite. Staying pressed against the wall, Jaxx moves to the door. He gives a quick listen at the door as he screws on the suppressors. Facing the door, the air stills as he lifts his leg and smashes it open. Two bodyguards are taken out first, as Jaxx tucks and rolls as another guard comes out from the kitchenette managing to get a round off, but not before Jaxx comes up to his feet and leaves a burn third-eye tattoo on the guy’s forehead.

The silence is deafening as he surveys the room, finding a thin blonde looking wide-eyed at him. She is huddling in a corner of the kitchenette.

“What the hell?”

Jaxx slams the butt of the gun into Wentworth’s face as he flies out of the bedroom. The drunken man falls back, landing face down on the floor. Inside the bedroom, Jaxx spies three other women. Something stirs inside him, and the rage he feels dissipates a little as he thinks of his sister.

“Get out of here, now.”

The women scramble to their feet, grabbing clothes, shoes, purses and run from the suite.

Jaxx reaches down, hoists Wentworth over his shoulder.

The moon illuminates the sky, as Jaxx listens intently on the line as the man talks.

“Vicktor’s men just put Patri on a plane bound for nowhere land. I can make a few calls, set something up for you.”

“Fine, I’ll kill him later.”

Jaxx clicks off, pocketing the phone. He returns his attention to Wentworth. Clicking the blade out, he slides it across the cheek of the young man.

“Wake up,” Jaxx says.

“You fucker, you have any clue who I am?”

“You have any idea who I am?”

Getting a blank stare, Jaxx slides the blade across the soft side of Wentworth’s neck.

“What do you want? You can ask for it, but you’ll never live long enough to enjoy it,” Wentworth says.

Jaxx chuckles, “I want your skin. I think you’ll fork it over.”

Wentworth’s eyes pop as Jaxx tears the shirt from his chest. He lifts the blade for the smug bastard to see. Jaxx isn’t one for slow and methodical torture, as he’s a bullet through the eyes man, but a point needs to be made. No one touches my sister.

Returning the switchblade to his pocket, Jaxx walks up to the table where he has a scalpel waiting. He slides it along his thumb watching the blood ooze, turns holding it up for Wentworth to see.

“Shall we begin?”

“Look. Hey. Look. Maybe we can make a deal.”

“Of course,” Jaxx says. “You can scream all you want and I promise to kill you, when it’s over.”

The phone call comes to mind then, no matter how he tries to shove it away. He can still hear his sister’s voice filled with fear. Someone had slapped her around, brutally. They could come for him, but he never thought they’d use her to get to him. Was I naive?

The screaming would last for an hour until Wentworth passed out. Setting the bloody scalpel down, and pulling off his gloves, Jaxx walks over to the table where Wentworth’s jacket is. Digging through the pockets, he finds the vibrating Blackberry.

“Wentworth?”

“No.”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done to my son?” the female asks.

“You’ll learn soon enough.”

“You -”

“Hold your tongue bitch, I’m coming for you next.” Jaxx clicks off, walking out of the room onto the balcony.

Jaxx leans against the wall, watching as dawn arrives and last embers of night die away. He sets the phone down, heading inside. Removing his shirt and pants, he slides his hands into some non-stick gloves before walking over to Wentworth to drag the skinless man out.

“Wh-wh-”

“It’s okay, I hear it’s like floating,” Jaxx says, lifting him onto the ledge. “See ya sport.”

Vicktor holds Maxine as she trembles. She stares at her son’s lifeless, unrecognizable, skinned face. The revulsion is nothing compared to the maternal roar that escapes her. Maxine pushes Vicktor away, screaming. Who would dare? she wonders. Eventually, her tears stop, replaced with soft authoritative clicks. Looking over her shoulder, Maxine watches as the woman and her bodyguard approach.

“Thank you detective,” the woman says.

“No problem.”

She next focuses her gaze on Maxine and simply smiles.

“You think this is funny?” Maxine asks.

“Never.”

Fed up, Maxine leaves, heading back to the waiting limo, thinking about the voice on the other end of her son’s phone. She whirls around jabbing an angry finger at the leather-clad woman.

“This must not go unanswered,” Maxine yells in Russian.

“I’ll find the person responsible for this,” the lady in leather purrs, also in Russian.

Maxine’s eyes grow calm. “Bring me his lifeless corpse.”

“But of course,” she says.

Maxine watches the woman and her bodyguard stroll to a waiting town car, climb in and drive away.

“She had better not fail.”

Vicktor offers her his arm. “She will not.”

Around mid-day, Jaxx ends up in an alley between two financial buildings coming out in front of a storage unit complex. He slips by the guard making his way to his locker.

A gentle smile comes to him as he enters the unit. Here he keeps his prized weapons. These aren’t the average old world Lugers or vintage samurai swords; no these are weapons one would never hear about unless you were deep in the Amazon or other such places. It seems like a strange place to keep such items, but Jaxx has an arrangement. However, he’s not here to reminisce, here he has come for a specific gun, a sniper rifle to be exact.

He had held on to this particular piece, uncertain as to why until now. The city had been wrong to taunt him, he realizes, but nonetheless he would need her for one last job, one last time in this city, and so snapping shut the case, he leaves.

6:15, her watch says. Maxine scrunches her nose into the tissue, glaring at the woman across from her desk. Maxine despises her, but in this game, a woman with her talents is needed. Sighing as she swivels in her chair, Maxine forces herself to remain calm. Being in this office, so high up, makes no sense to her, yet Victor had insisted they would be safe.

“Relax Vicktor,” the other woman purrs.

“Oh please,” Maxine says. “There’s a fucking psycho on the loose. He has killed my son and you want us to relax?”

“Mrs. Jordon, you said he made it clear he was coming for you. I will suggest once again until he has been…”

“Run? Do I look like a coward?”

The woman glances up at Sergey. The man remains expressionless.

“I am not running,” says Maxine.

The woman raises a hand to check her nails. “Very well, Mrs. Jordon. If you’ll excuse me I’ll go check with my contacts, and see if there is a name to this assassin.”

The bitch thinks she’s clever, but she isn’t, Maxine thinks, brushing a hand at her. The woman gives a snide smirk taking Sergey’s hand and stands.

“Come, Sergey.”

Maxine looks over at Vicktor, hating him more as he paces. Fucking weak man.

Outside the office, the woman in leather smiles to herself, having every confidence in Jaxx’s ability. He would do what he does best and soon she would be queen.

“I wish to God I could be a fly in this building, Sergey. I would love to see Maxine bleed, and that husband of hers… Oh well. Shall we exit?”

Sergey pushes open the emergency exit door and she walks by, descending the stairs, chuckling.

“Isn’t this a beautiful night for bloodshed?”

Jaxx watches the woman climb in the town car and leave. Moving towards the building she has just exited, his favourites are close to hand- knives, spare clips, extra handguns along with his two specialized Walther P93s -he checks his watch, when the minute hand reaches twelve, he watches as a courier leaves the building next. He then enters.

Maxine eyes the box the mercenary sets down in front of her, a special delivery from her son, which brings tears to her eyes even as a strange sensation creeps up her spine. Maxine pushes back from her chair, pointing a manicured fingernail at one of the men, “Bring me that bitch and her shadow’s goddamn bodies. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Several mercenaries exit the office. The rest fill in the missing gaps of the perimeter even as Vicktor remains in his spot. Vicktor tries to say something, but she cuts him off.

“You,” Maxine says pointing to another mercenary. “Open it.”

She glares at the box as the man steps forward, tearing it open. Inside: a silver case. Fat fingers snap the clips up as Maxine watches. He turns the case to face her.

“What the hell?”

The stun grenade explodes in the hall, as Jaxx comes out of the elevator shooting and moving fast towards the barricaded office. He fires, killing every shadow in his path.

Jaxx jabs a wrist into the mercenary’s throat, following it up with a blade to the jugular. As the smoke clears, only bodies lie at his feet. Steadying his heart rate, Jaxx looks at the door to the office. He slaps C4 on it, and turns down a corridor. The door clicks open. He smiles, pressing the button in his hand.

Smoke and debris fill the corridor as Jaxx advances. Some asshole gets in a lucky shot, hitting first the bulletproof vest, and then putting a bullet into his thigh. Jaxx doesn’t miss as he pulls the trigger, placing a bloody hole in the center of each man’s forehead. He dispatches the remaining mercenaries in a matter of moments.

He pivots in order to shoot the Glock out of Maxine’s hand. She screams in pain as he limps over, giving a swift punch to her face and knocking her out. She would be last. Vicktor raises bare knuckles at him. Funny, Jaxx thinks.

Jaxx shrugs, holstering his guns. He raises his fists, stepping forward jabbing. Vicktor has some moves, but he’s old. Jaxx plays with him a while before slamming an uppercut into Vicktor’s chin, a gut shot follows before a hard fist connects with his temple. Wanting to end this, Jaxx takes the man by the head. “The sins of the son,” he whispers, snapping the man’s neck.

When Maxine comes too she finds herself tied to her chair, a sniper’s bullet on the desk and the killer across from her with a strange smile on his lips. He lifts something and sets it beside the bullet. It’s a tablet with an image of her; a younger version of her with her first deceased husband and the newly deceased Vicktor shaking hands, between then Tao Chan. Maxine is in the background a smile on her lips.

Jaxx taps the screen, showing another picture of her a few years older, her first husband dead at her feet. A smirk unconsciously spreads across her lips. He taps again, and a series of photos of her with her dead husbands and Patri follow. Goddamn bastard, she thinks wearily, before looking back at Jaxx.

“I guess it’s all in a night’s work for you,” he says.

“Go to hell.”

Jaxx laughs, “The money was too good, but I’ve never been paid to think. Then a year later, someone tries to murder me. I still didn’t see a connection. I do have enemies. I probably wouldn’t have cared until that little prick, Patri, slapped my sister around. Then – then I saw these pictures and it began to make a lot of sense.”

Maxine shrugged, “I couldn’t afford to let you stay alive.”

“You ambitious little bitch.”

Maxine looks away, “Someone had to be. I did what needed to be done. I had played the dutiful wife, suffered, and given up everything and for those weak men.”

“Both your dead husbands wanted to legitimatize their businesses. I guess that must have burned you. Nevertheless, their deaths ensured only one thing, you would gain power or Wentworth would. You already had Patri. You thought I would care if you became head bitch? Well I wouldn’t. I didn’t.”

The woman said nothing for a moment. “You needed to be eliminated. You had knowledge. I couldn’t risk you coming back.”

“So you go after my sister to bring me back after your assassin fails to kill me in Bora Bora. Figure I’d come back seeking retribution, and you’d have me killed by your cheap mercenaries? Shouldn’t pay children to kill their parents, it never works out well.”

Maxine scoffs. “What can I say, I underestimated your skills.”

“That you did,” Jaxx responds, lifting the Walther from the holster, and pulling the trigger.

BIO:

Rhesa Sealy currently works in the Logistics Industry, and is from Brampton, Ontario in Canada. Rhesa graduated from the University of Waterloo, earned a BA in English Language and Literature, and received a Book and Magazine Publishing certificate from Centennial College.

Rhesa contributed to Beginning of Line, a fan-fiction blog dedicated to continuing the Caprica story when the TV series was cancelled, she has written a two-part story called “Vengeance is Mine” and recently had a horror story accepted by Grey Matter Press.