Todd unscrewed the silencer from his 9mm Glock's muzzle and placed it in a fitted foam compartment in a case. He placed the gun in its compartment. He put his knives in, too.
Knives were Todd's specialty. He could kill anybody in a knife fight and even beat guns with knives. There was no pleasure in life for Todd like the fleshy wet slice of a good mean stab. Screwing a hot body came in a close second.
Where the f*ck was Aeonia? Todd wondered. Did they have cheeseburgers? The white stuff? NFL Sunday? He web-searched for the place, misspelled it (though his computer corrected the misspelling), and found jack squat. Nothing more than Wikipedia links to dead people he'd never heard of, events he didn't care about, and some cosmic sea-monster religion.
Todd had been to some strange, bad
