Tag

It took a bit for the target to settle down and return to everyday habits; Troy lost track of how many nights he'd waited in the alley for the guy to take his trash out (and it tried his patience something fierce). At long last, however, the dude relaxed and resumed all of the normalcy he denied to his victims; Troy took him down with a tranquilizing dart about 14 seconds later, tagged him just behind the ear, and sprinkled some dry ice around to make it look like he'd slipped and hit his head. He roused himself, took it all in, rubbed his neck like a big baby and went into the house grumbling. "Seamless," Troy reported to his mother, who smiled and poured him some tea. "I'll be able to track not only his whereabouts, but record every conversation he has. I'm giving this one ... oh ... about 3 more days before he's back actively stalking." "And you won't tell Janie?" his mother asked. "No need. I'll know before she does if he's breaking the terms of the protective order. I can call the cops at that point or ... " "Or?" she pressed him. "I can just start a self-destruct on the tag and blow out his brain stem," Troy explained, reaching for a piece of spice cake. "It's not like this guy is ever going to take "no" for an answer." His mother smiled; it was an awful thing, all of this, but farm folk preferred solutions that got all of the nonsense sorted quickly.