the Giver of Wealth and Riches

Tell you they're your friend and then badmouth again
My style is the bom-

The radio clicked off, replaced with the rush of wind past Penelope's ears. She raised a delicate hand back to the wheel, away from the silent stereo. The hand was smooth, unblemished, each finger on it possessing a manicured nail with an almost nude polish.

To think that these fingers had depressed the trigger of an AI Arctic Warfare rifle not long before, filling Zeus with hot lead and a carefully concocted alchemist's solution. She wasn't sure what it was, but it had worked.

She smiled as she remembered the rage on Zeus' face, now affixed there in dull ivory.

A shrill ring penetrated the loud whispers of the wind as Penelope's cell rang, amplified by the convertible's Bluetooth.

“Answer,” she commanded, silencing the ringing. “Yes?”

“Is it done, Penelope?” a disembodied voice floated from the car stereo in clear surround sound.

“Whatever do you mean?” she laughed back.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“But which part?”

A frustrated sigh. “Is he dead?”

Another laugh from Penelope, her shaded eyes narrowing. “You're asking me if the immortal Zeus is dead? I put one of Loki's bullets through his skull. That's all I can guarantee.”

Road signs flashed by, advertising the truck stop at the next exit.

“And you found the case?”

“Of course, mighty Giver of Wealth and Riches,” Penelope replied with a smile. She knew that her smile was shared by the unseen man on the line, though his own would be sinister at best.

“Very good,” he responded simply.

The call disconnected, Penelope watched the suddenly numerous signs along the roadway, waiting for the truck stop exit. She needed a pit stop, a sleazy burger, and the longing stares of undeserving men.

“Maybe I'll get to break in these cowboy boots,” she muttered with a grin.

The End

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