If you haven’t yet read The Genesis,
|Deleted From:||Contains Spoilers:||Word Count:|
|The Genesis||YES, MINOR||600 Words|
Catrina considers Fox’s job offer.
|Reason for Removal:
Mostly unnecessary due to the change of events, plus it’s not terribly exciting. The scene also gives an introduction into Anthony Gostanzo, a character who doesn’t need an introduction at this point in the series.
Bonus scenes are added purely for entertainment. While every care has been taken to ensure their readability, in many cases, these scenes are not professionally edited (and in some cases a little rough around the edges). As such, they may contain the occasional typo or two.
Catrina kicked off her boots at the door, idle hand sliding unconsciously up the wall to the light switch. The room sparked into dimly lit life. She threw her jacket over the back of the sofa. It–along with every other piece of furniture in her apartment, every strip of wallpaper and carpet fitting–was property of the man she worked for. Anthony Gostanzo, the closest thing she accepted to a father in her world. The can of soda she pulled out of the otherwise empty refrigerator was paid for by the work she completed for Tony.
The open plan living room-cum-kitchenette-cum-breakfast bar was clean and minimalist; the only sign that anyone even lived in the apartment was a week’s worth of clothes trailing from the front door to the bedroom.
She discarded her top like shed skin on her way to the bathroom. The halogen spotlights inside the box of marble white walls and gleaming porcelain fixtures showed the mess she’d managed to make of herself.
The bruise, greening towards the edges, stood out against her pale neck as a new asphyxiation accessory, two thick thumb prints completing the look. She lifted hair away from her forehead. A splattering of dried blood ran across one side of her hairline. She scooped a few handfuls of warm water from the tap and splashed at the wound. A fresh sting brought tears to her eyes. More scrapes up her arm showed how heavily she’d fallen, and her busted lip was scabbed; she picked at it a few times before willing herself to stop.
After dismantling the Beretta on her dressing table, leaving the loose pieces scattered in amongst her makeup and the luxury facial care gift set her boss and foster father, Tony, had bought her two Christmases ago, she changed into an oversized t-shirt and shorts for bed. The shirt was one of the few things she considered “inherited”, since the man it had belonged to was dead. While not much of an heirloom, she considered it–along with the Beretta–one of the most precious things she possessed.
She sat cross-legged at the foot of her unmade bed, rolling the bullet that had set this in motion between her fingers. Failing to load into the chamber, it had jammed the slide open, rendering her unarmed and in the company of some very angry men. This tiny piece of metal could’ve been the death of her, if it hadn’t been for Fox.
She tried not to believe that the decisions in life were controlled by Fate, although plenty of events in her life suggested otherwise. Fate had landed her in the care of Tony Gostanzo in the first place, when running away from home at a far too young age, she’s accidently ran into the path of his car. Fate had led her into the business, when one of Tony’s rivals had mistaken her for his daughter; a particularly memorable week that had ended when she–then twelve years old–had shot her kidnapper in the kneecap and pushed him off a second-storey balcony. That had been seven years ago.
The LCD on her bedside clock said that dawn was on its way by the time she crawled under the sheets. She had to accept the possibility then that Fate caused her gun to jam. Fate forced Fox to intervene. Fate brought the proposition to her, and perhaps Fate was expecting her to accept.