bamaHulkers

It's really nice to see Six-Four "rounding out" Excellent as always

Very nicely done, indeed. The dimension you give Conall demonstrates what a great writer you are

Hopefully, Wolfie and I will be home (Sunday is our "errands day" ) Assuming so, I'm planning on bringing my Rad/Rad Def. unless team makeup indicates something different.

I have a strategic few I can bring

Pretty much 7-10 p.m. Eastern during the week, most all of Saturday, and Sunday up to about 9 p.m.

As far as when the next one should be, I'm with the "well after I-17 drops" contingent. You're just fooling yourself otherwise.

And you thought it "wasn't exciting" LOL

Very nice drama, well done ::hugs::

Another episode with Jill... another labor dispute LOL

"Local Charity Suffers Second Fire In as Many Days"
Officials at a local homeless shelter are baffled by what appears to be two intentionally set fires in as many days. The shelter’s director told our reporter the fires consumed only junk furniture and trash, but that a dumpster fire last night took emergency crews thirty minutes to extinguish. Police are looking for any information, and …"
　


Jill folded the paper back suddenly, her icy blue eyes slitting in frustration. "Bug, where were you last night ?" she asked loudly, her voice loud in the SUV. The arsonist almost had the sense not to smile when asked, but guilt and Jill’s pigtails ruined his resolve. Her eyes opened widely, and Bug cringed. She looked back out the windshield, spotting a convenience store on the left. "Block, pull in there," she ordered crossly , the heavily muscled man in the driver’s seat obeying out of a healthy sense of fear. He had been on the receiving end of one of his boss’ "reprimands." Most, but not all of his sense of smell had returned.

Gravel crunched underneath the tires as the vehicle slowed to a stop. Jill turned her attention back to the arsonist. He was frowning now, which Jill expected, but seemed frightened of her, which took the venom out of her scolding. The arsonist was the smallest of her "boys", and she seemed to pity him at times. "Bless his heart, he’s like some retarded puppy," she thought. "Really wants to please you, and just too damned dumb to carry it off."

"Bug…honey… why a homeless shelter ?", she asked him, trying not to make things worse. "What have the homeless done to you ? They don’t have any money, the gain of which is pretty much chief goal in this collective endeavor. Overall, they don’t have much of anything else, as well. What were you hoping for ? Were you just bored ? What if one of them had gotten hurt ? What if you had gotten caught ?"

Jill paused to let all her thoughts sink in. It was a lengthy pause, but not long enough; the blank look remained on Bug’s face. "Bug, we don’t do what we do to hurt people. I was a doctor once. Granted, I worked on dead people, so "hurt" didn’t really enter the picture, but still. We don’t look for opportunities to hurt people. Have we killed ? Yes. Have I enjoyed any of it ? No, not for a very long time. I would love to turn the proverbial clock back, and never get poisoned. Never have to leave a great career in the middle of the night like some shamed harlot." She smiled as her tone, and maybe her words, seemed to soothe him. "Don’t be the reason someone else hurts." A memory of Hunter’s callous last words to her suddenly came to the forefront of her mind; she bit her lip to force it back into forgetfulness. "Do not be the cause of someone’s heartbreak," she finished. She realized the speech had been more for her benefit that Bug’s, and she smiled bitterly.

There was a silence in the rig, and she instinctively broke it. "WHO HAS TO PEE ?," she laughed. "C’mon, let’s stretch our legs, get a cold drink and something to snack on."


They piled out of the large SUV, looking like well dressed clowns exiting a too-large clown car. Jill frowned softly as she tucked a pistol in the back of her shorts. "One day… no more," she thought to herself. She hadn’t told the guys yet, but once they reached Hunter, she was done with this life. Done with being pursued, done with wondering if everyone was seeking revenge, or justice. Just…done. Today wasn’t that day, but it could be a glimmer of things to come. She let the men go ahead of her, stopping to look around at the hillsides and flatlands surrounding the remote convenience store. She watched the setting sun for a long moment, then followed the guys in.
　
She knew her gun was hidden. It dug uncomfortably into the skin of her lower back, covered by a white tank top. She had chosen to go braless; partially to simply relax, partially to feel like a woman again instead of a villain in a black trenchcoat. It was working so far; she smiled at the young couple behind the counter, they smiled back. She wasn’t used to people smiling when she entered a building. Scowling, studying her face, maybe the forced grin of a teller. Soon after, there would be screaming, shouting. And shooting. Too often, there was shooting. There was always anguish of the wounded; the boys never looked, or of they did, it didn’t bother them. But she looked, and after many times of seeing the scenario play out, she was starting to feel pity for the people.

But this couple didn’t seem worried that a group of guys and a leggy woman with pigtails had just entered the store. They actually seemed to trust her. Maybe this is what normal looked like…felt like. She liked the feeling.

Block and the thug trio were huddled around the drink machine, Block actually not being an arrogant *** for a change. The large man filled his drink, the large styrofoam cup still looking like a shot glass in his oversized paw. Bug and his partners stood waiting, talking among themselves. Jill smiled. "Maybe they’re tired of all this as well," she thought.

She strode up the candy aisle, looking at the bags with various treats in them. She had a fondness for orange slices, a fondness life on the run didn’t let her indulge too often. "Orange slices would rock. Maybe I’ll get two bags." She giggled softly as she realized how mundane she was seeming to herself. The woman some newspapers had labeled "Killer Jill", and she was indulging her sweet tooth like a common tourist. She reached the end of the aisle without seeing the candy. She frowned, and walked up to the counter.

The lady of the pair was at the register. "Can ah help you, ma’am ?", the short woman asked, her tone conveying a friendliness that Jill had been without for months now. Jill grinned softly as she realized she was out of practice being nice to someone. A little self-conscious, she replied "I…can’t find the orange slices. Do you have any ?" The lady laughed "Why honey, you were right next to them ! Unless we’re out." Jill thanked her, returning to the aisle.

Jill’s two enforcers always moved as a pair. This was an asset in a robbery; they provided cover fire for each other if it came to that, but more often, just served as a visual deterrent to anyone feeling heroic. And they were moving now. Toward the register. Neither had any snacks in their hands. Jill glanced up to see them go by, one reaching into his coat. They reached the register, then stopped. Jill darted to catch them, her unbound bust slamming into the back of the one on her right. She pressed her mouth to his ear, as if to tell a secret.

"You, are going for your gun. Mine is already out, and pointed squarely at your back. Now, if I have to pull this trigger, you will spend the remainder of your days on a machine, remembering the day you wanted to rob a nice couple just to make your dick hard and show what a stud you are. Or, you can bring that hand out empty, turn your ******* self back around, and you and your goon buddy go get a damn Coke. I want my damn orange slices, and you are NOT going to **** that up ! Am I clear ?!"

The gunman tensed. He had seen what Jill’s pistol did when she chose to fire it. The sensation of hard metal pressing onto his spine told him she wasn’t bluffing. He elbowed his partner, gesturing with his head toward the fountain machine. As the men turned, Jill used their bulk to slip her gun back behind her. The woman at the counter smiled a bit nervously, Jill returned the smile as sweetly as she could manage, barely hiding her anger. Watching the two men walk purposefully toward the drink machine, Jill went back to the candy aisle.

A silence filled the store. The metallic click of the fountain was followed by the hollow liquid sound of a cup being filled. It repeated itself with the other gunman. They turned back to Jill, who gestured impatiently back toward the register. She found the orange slices, breaking the paper tags as she snatched two bags off the metal display.
The men paid for their purchases, the cashier seeming no worse for the momentary drama that could have been so much worse. Finally, Jill was alone with the woman at the counter. "You okay, hun ?" the woman asked in a helpful tone.

Jill smiled back weakly. "Not really, but I will be soon."

Next chapter is up This one introduces the last of what I consider to be the "core characters" to TOTHI.

Note: The nonsense phrase Robbie blurts out is spelled the way it would sound. I know it's spelled "wrong"

He belched, and hoped the misty remains of dinner wouldn’t remain in his beard. Dinner had been soup; no surprise there, probably why they called it a "soup kitchen." He lit a cigarette butt he had found at the base on the concrete slope, and listened to the thrum of vehicles passing only feet over his head. Overpass living wasn’t glamorous, but it was anonymous.
It was the anonymous that kept him here.

He had chosen this place carefully. Far enough from the target location that he wouldn’t be spotted; close enough that a quick jog would place him within line of sight of the front door. "See the bastards before they see you," an old wino had told him early on, and it had stuck with him. He knew one day his former employer would send "associates" after him. Maybe they already had.
"They wont be looking for a bum", he mused to himself.

************************************************** ***　
"Anada wa watazhee no pūdoru o hazoogacemende ! “ a voice murmured, then laughed before adding a shouted “HAI !” Hunter looked up from the newspaper page he was reading. Robbie was grinning widely from beneath a makeshift samurai helm. A foam sword was in his hand. It blurred, made a soft slapping sound on the oak desk, and Robbie grinned again, giggling this time. Junk Chunker and Spider Silk entered the room, stopping to laugh at the stunned expression on Hunter’s face. "Uh… what the HELL did Robbie just say ?"

Spider giggled happily for a moment, then composed herself long enough to answer. "He says you have shamed his poodle !" She broke into laughter, accompanied by the booming guffaw of her boyfriend. Robbie continued to grin happily, adding "Poodoruuuuu !" before joining the two young heroes in laughter. Hunter tried not to smile. Junk and Spider had proved invaluable in getting Robbie to socialize after his arrival at the institute, and the three had become an unusual trio. Hunter guessed the heroes saw Robbie as a pitiable innocent of sorts, and he saw them as playmates. Any way it was reckoned, they seemed to care for each other at face value, something all three of them needed.

Robbie’s reaction when watching a Bruce Lee movie had given Junk and Spider the idea of gathering more martial arts movies for the disabled man to watch. He enjoyed them all, no matter how bad the plot, no matter how melodramatic the dialogue. At first, he merely mimicked the motions; first the footwork, then moving his hands and legs rapidly . Comical as he was, the heroes stayed well away when Robbie was "playing." Slowing down video studies of Robbie showed a clumsy, but improving grasp of the motions her saw. Hunter watched them with interest, but had yet to find an application for Robbie’s ability.

Lately, Robbie had taken to being "armor man", as he described the samurai he saw in the films. The heroes had fashioned him a helm, and bought a foam sword for him to carry about. Foam travelling faster than the eye could follow still hurt when it hit unguarded flesh, so Robbie could not hit people with it. Desks were a different story, and it seemed Robbie had found a loophole in the prohibition. And now it seemed the trio had worked on a nonsense phrase for Robbie to stun Hunter with. He didn’t know whether to scold them, or marvel that two "non-professionals" had managed to get a developmentally disabled man to retain a phrase in a foreign language long enough to use it as a joke. Maybe it was time to challenge the three of them . He glanced back down at the newspaper; fortune agreed with him, and had provided an opportunity for his plan. He looked back up at them, a smile on his own face. "We’re gonna take this show on the road," he said.

************************************************** *****

A sudden noise in his ear disrupted the man’s mental quiet. He reached up to his bushy brown hair, a finger stabbing between the locks to push a button. "Go," he spoke flatly. "You got visitors," a voice answered. "Still there ?", he questioned, his voice becoming clear as his attention focused on the speaker’s words. "You got four looking. One may be a co-worker, three cover. Invite them to stay ?" the man continued.
The shaggy haired man considered for a moment, then rose to his feet. "I’m coming to greet them myself. On my way," he replied.

He knew this day would come, he had planned for it in his mind. Now it was important to remain focused. The bait had been placed to invite his pursuers to show themselves in such a way that he would hold the element of surprise until it was too late for them to react. He would eliminate them, and sympathetic persons would ensure the bodies were disposed of, and his presence kept secret.

Several items he needed were secreted along the route to the target, and he collected them as he moved. When he did, he removed one identifying feature from himself. The ratty army coat as he retrieved his pistol. Greasy boots were deftly exchanged for running shoes. Finally, he darted into a storefront, fixing his hair into a functional ponytail and slipping on custom-made sunglasses. He left the storefront, walking unhurriedly across the street. If the pursuers were still inside, they wouldn’t be coming out. Unless it was feet first.
　
************************************************** ***　
　
Robbie had marveled over the Paragon City Museum’s Armor Through The Ages exhibit. More than once he excitedly blurted out "Armor man !" and waved his hands about. Junk and Spider walked behind, holding hands and smiling at Robbie’s enjoyment. The craftsmanship of the suits soon grabbed the interest of the pair, and they lagged behind slightly as Robbie dragged Hunter ahead, pointing and speaking quickly at each new exhibit.
They did not see the man with the ponytail pass them.
　
************************************************** *****　

He moved quickly now. The big guy with the tiny girlfriend was certainly not part of a "clean-up crew"; the guy was far too obvious, the girl too cute. Which mean his target was still ahead. He readied the pistol, but left the safety on. His contact had never willingly "cried wolf", but he had made mistakes. After the last one, the man had a long talk with the contact, reviewing the specifics of what the "associates" most likely would appear as. And what would happen should his patience be for naught because the contact could not focus. The contact assured him the next alert would be genuine.
　
************************************************** *****　

Robbie sighed with boredom now. The actual displays had yielded to a room full of glass panels describing futuristic depictions of armor in science fiction. There were "artist renditions", but Robbie’s attention had waned, and there was no retrieving it. He began to fidget, waving his hands about. Hunter glanced back and smiled. "We’ll be done in a minute, Rob. Hold tight." Hunter returned to the last panel in the room. It detailed development of a theoretical "smart armor" by the Crey Corporation. The properties of the armor- sensor arrays, highly sophisticated metals, and most importantly, the ability to be programmed to perform combat motions- were fascinating Hunter as he thought of Robbie’s fixation with armor and his abnormally fast reflexes. He was lost in thought, and had stood there longer than he realized. Robbie was fidgeting worse now.

************************************************** *****　

The man had entered the target room, seen no one of consequence, and returned quickly to the lobby, where he slipped into a doorway and dashed up a set of stairs.
"Mind telling me where the hell the boogie man is ? Or do we need to review the price of forcing me into the open for NOT A DAMNED THING ?!" he shouted, causing the guard at the bank of monitors to startle so hard he almost toppled his rolling chair. The guard composed himself, and pointed down at one monitor in particular. The man studied the video, rewound it back, slowed it, then let it go live again. He stood in the darkness for a long moment, the light of the monitor bank reflecting in intense eyes. "You may have not given me what I wanted, nor what I feared. But you very well may have given me what I needed. " he offered. Then he smiled, and left the room as suddenly as he had entered.

************************************************** *********************************
　
　
　The pistol was secured. He wouldn’t need it today, and if his idea was met with consent, may never need it again. He approached the man standing by the target area.
"Interesting stuff…smart armor," he offered with a practiced ease in a voice he hadn’t used in too many months.
Hunter turned to face the speaker. "Yes, it is. My friend over there might benefit from some of what it has to offer. Wish I could meet the guy who developed it."
The man smiled, and held out his hand. "You just have, my name is Max."
　
　
　

::drags in semi-trailer full of birthday awesomeness::

What ? I don't have a CDL ! How else was I supposed to get this stuff in here !?

(Happy Birthday ! )

To poach an excellent phrasing from Ice9, another piece placed on the board..

Enjoy !

(PS- Jill thanks you all for the kind thoughts )