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Tavon
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I move my bare feet onto the cold, wooden paneling that makes up the floor of the dark room and look around for my clothes. In the darkness, from the light gleaming through cracks in the doorframe, I’m able to spot a couple of articles of clothing and go about getting dressed even though my body feels like it’s on fire from all the cuts dealt to it by Artemis and, just now, Theoria. I hear a knock at the door, which startles me out of a drunken stupor as I clumsily make my way over to open it. I stop for a second, suddenly remembering my first encounter with the gangbanger known as Ekwueme and recall what it felt like to chase down someone who was ready to blast me away from the other side of the door with a grenade launcher. The image of that moment flickers away, almos
