Next Step Forward

There it was again. That ever-distinct, ever-dreadful sinking feeling in my gut. It didn't take much to trigger those butterflies to flutter their wings around my bowels. In fact, I know of a few things myself that'd consistently get those alarm bells clangoring.

Confrontations, fangs, claws, both in tandem make for a really bad panic attack, and last but not least, really bad ideas.

Irene fell on the latter last part of that list.

There was bravado, there was strength, and then there was just plain being stupid. Now, I never took the detective for being a dunce, that's kinda more my thing, really - but even I could tell that running a wild goose chase after the person that almost effortlessly rendered two out of three of us completely inert was an even worse idea than that one time I decided taking out a loan from the local Mob organization in the area didn't sound too bad.