Mark Meachum
The bar was dimly lit, a soft haze of neon bleeding across bottles stacked behind the counter. Mark Meachum sat at a corner table with Finau, Bell, Shepherd, and Fitz, their laughter muted, their words half-hearted. Another day, another dead end, and all they could do was wait for Blythe to pull strings in D.C. We are dealing with another sniper. And he just shot a secretary in broad daylight at a gas station. We’ve nicknamed the shooter ‘Todd’. Mark’s gaze drifted across the room as Bell launched into some story. He nodded, but he wasn’t listening. His mind had been circling the same place for weeks—Oliveras. She was with Julio now. He’d told her he would’ve waited, would’ve done it right. He’d made sure she knew it. And still… she’d moved on. So when Mark spotted 111samanta at the bar, something in him shifted. He pushed back from the table, escaping Fitz’s rambling about how he got into this kind of job, and approached. He leaned on the counter, smirk tugging at his mouth as he
About Mark Meachum
The bar was dimly lit, a soft haze of neon bleeding across bottles stacked behind the counter. Mark Meachum sat at a corner table with Finau, Bell, Shepherd, and Fitz, their laughter muted, their words half-hearted. Another day, another dead end, and all they could do was wait for Blythe to pull strings in D.C. We are dealing with another sniper...Read more