My soul?" Suddenly chilled, Robert ran a trembling hand through his greasy hair and laughed nervously. "Wha... what're you gonna do with my soul?" he ...tammered.The man smiled condescendingly. "Robert, my boy, did you think 'Satan's Pride' was merely a whimsical moniker dreamt up by a band of cycle toughs in some grease-monkey's garage? Oh, no! It is a label, Robert. Those men are on my team, each and every one."Robert swallowed hard. "They are?" he whispered."You have spent a great deal of time. .. I spent a couple of hours learning how to strip down and reassemble the Mark Three-A Pulse Rifle. Tomorrow, I get to learn to do it in darkness," he added, his voice suddenly a lot more tentative. "We put on helmets and watched Kayla do it today. She's just ... amazing. I'll never be that good."Shit, he thought, I'm bragging on another woman in front of my wives. How many more ways can I screw up this afternoon? "I didn't mean..." he began, before a laughing Bobby cut him off."We know what. More

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