The gun was set to standard rounds, and not the galvanized ammunition. I lowered my shield, and brought out my knife. I waved it, as I holstered the g...n. This was a challenge, and the Dogface could drop his shield and fight with a knife, or try for his communicator or gun. The later two and I would shoot him, as he tried. This one I wanted alive, or at least almost so.The shield came down, and the knife was hoisted into its large hands. Its mouth opened and the long thin tongue came out, licked. His charm and broken English were disarming.“My daughter hasn’t quite figured out how to use chopsticks,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it eventually.” He glanced at my own awkward grip on my chopsticks but was kind enough not to mention it.“You write with pencil?” he asked Whitney.“Uh-huh. I mean, yes, sir,” she answered.“Hold first kuài zi like pencil,” he instructed. He took one chopstick from her hand and she gripped the other like a pencil. He pushed the stick through her. More

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