Read Online Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst by D. Andrew Campbell - Free Book Online

on for protection during a fight, but wearing it pretty much negates most of my senses.  And I'm going to need them tonight.  Especially if I plan to replenish my energy by feeding.  Trying to bite someone while a helmet guards my mouth would be ridiculously comical.  And no one needs that in the middle of a fight.).  Quickly brushing my fingers through my hair (one of the drawbacks to wearing a helmet as a girl - tangled and sweaty hair caused by helmet-head), I step around the parked bike and walk up to the passenger side window and knock.
                "Hey," I shout at my own darkened reflection and mime the international sign for rolling down a window.  "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?  I have that new flavor that everyone loves."
                I have no idea if they can even hear me inside the vehicle, but I figure I have to say something to get them to open it up.  Might as well start with something confusing and just hope for the best.  It's worked in the past.
                While I wait for a response from whoever’s inside, I inhale deeply to get a sense of the night air and see if I can pick up any hints of what to expect from my soon-to-be-new acquaintances.  As the cold air rushes into my lungs, my brain filters it for anything of importance.  The most powerful smell in the city always hits me first, burnt fuel and exhaust (the reason why I have to wear a helmet while I ride), and it is quickly followed by a half dozen competing food smells which tells me that we are near civilization and takeout restaurants. 
                As my brain removes the distractions, I become aware of two things almost simultaneously: the next most prevalent scent and the distinct sound that almost always follows it.  I can smell the slimy odor of oil and gunpowder wafting heavily out of the car, and it is closely followed by the tell-tale ch-clinks of metal on metal as someone on the other side of the window racks the slide of a very large gun.
                Suddenly the wind around me stops blowing and the world comes to a pause as my adrenalin accelerates and my reaction time goes from simply impressive up to superhuman .   Acting on instinct more than skill, I dive across the hood of the car as the window that is now behind me explodes into a rainstorm of glass and metal showering the street with death.
                I believe they have just ever-so-impolitely served up my "probable cause" on a big ol' platter of firearms and hatred.  How kind of them to save me the trouble of having to try and find a creative way to search the car.  They brought the evidence to me.
                As I slide across the large truck's hood (Or is this thing classified as a "car"?  I never know.), I look into the front windshield to get an idea of who I'm facing, but all I see is a reflection of myself as I glide across the polished, black metal. 
                Dang , I think.  They tinted out every window.  That'll add to the challenge .
                I'm hoping that whoever was on the other side of that gun blast was so focused on shooting me that they might not have noticed my disappearance and subsequent launching across the front of their SUV.  It's unlikely, but possible.  A girl can dream can't she? 
                As I clear the far side of the hood and land on the pavement next to the front tire, I immediately jettison myself towards the rear of the car in a tight roll and pop up into a crouch near the back bumper.  My ears are ringing with the echoes from the shotgun blast that tore open the passenger door and window (It had to be a shotgun with how loud it was and how much damage it did so quickly.  And I hate shotguns.  I've had a bad history with them.).  It was way too loud and unexpected for me to properly protect myself from it.  I'll just have to go without that particular sense for a few