bamaHulkers
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Posts
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Joined
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Nice touch having Trix help *her*
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Nice turn of events, Sooner ::nods, grinning::
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Wow ! Just caught up and very glad I did Mogo is "uncommon" enough a hero that most everything he does seems innovative. Nice work indeed !
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I started a "new" thread much like Sooner's to keep the TOTHI in one spot, and not make a new thread for each chapter. The chapter count is pretty accurate, as far as I can tell from Vorac's archive.
Thanks to Sooner for helping Jill remove the bullet
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TOTHI 25- "Troubleshooting"
"You see, this is why we never get anywhere, this is why we’re not big time" The SUV full of thugs listened as the woman in the driver’s seat lectured them. The man in the passenger seat just bled.
She glanced briefly in the rear-view mirror at the two men in the second seat. "I know you two are…simple. And I allow for that. We all have limitations, and the best anyone of us can hope for is to live up to our limits. No matter how sloth-like we may be. Especially from the neck up. It was your job to keep Bug from charging the guards like some kind of toddler ramped up on Red Bull. Now the poor boy is bleeding out on my passenger seat, which plays hell with the leather. Care to share on just what happened here ?"
The two thugs looked at each other, then back at the driver, vacant-eyed and slackjawed. She glanced at them again, sighing as she looked back to the road.
Behind them were two more men. Each had a small semi-automatic machine slung inside a long trenchcoat. Each also wore a smug grin. "Okay, I know you two are feeling blameless right now, but you were supposed to watch the three stooges up here to make sure they didn’t do something… well, typical for them. Which is pretty much what happened."
A deep chuckle from the very back of the SUV interrupted her. "Got some nagging for me, Jill ? Something you wanna ***** about ?" The driver stomped her foot on the brake pedal, the SUV sliding to a halt.
"Chinese fire drill", she hissed.
The bleeding man heard her. His two teammates in the second seat heard her. The man in the back realized the driver’s door had slammed shut just as the back doors were jerked open. The next sound he heard was of two semi-automatic pistol slides being slid in rapid succession. The next thing he saw was the barrels of the pistols as their owner crashed them into his face, sending his nose both left and right simultaneously. His hands shot to his gory face, so he didn’t see the butt of the right pistol before it collided with his forehead. Her voice crossed his blindness two ways; it sounded like the edge of madness, which it was. Her breath smelled like an unnatural death, which it had been to others this close to her. Fortunately for him, she kept this ability in check. This time.
"Do we have an issue here, Mr. Block ?", the woman asked, her voice shaking with anger. She smiled broadly, and blew a puff of air on his cheek. Immediately, that entire side of his head went numb. "Do we need to kiss and make up ?" His broken, palsied, bleeding face could not form an answer. Blood bubbled from his lips as he tried to form a word. The woman smiled. "I have two loaded pistols and could kiss you to death before my tongue tickled your molars. Your argument is invalid. " She swung the pistol again and knocked him out. "Bug is bleeding to death up there. Your pessimism does not help team morale." She slammed the doors back shut, leisurely walking back to the driver'’ seat.
She turned on the dome light, and began to unbutton Bug’s shirt. "Bug, honey, we have an problem here. Your macho man behavior has- surprise- earned you a grave injury yet again. Seeing as how I am persona non grata at most any medical facility, it falls to us to be your personal field hospital… yet again. Flesh wounds are easy to remedy; you however, pissed off a man with gun." His shirt was open now.
Expert fingers, trained to examine the dead, poked at the entry wound. "Looks to me like you may stay on the payroll. Barney Fife got your poor specimen of a pec muscle." She turned to one of the other stooges. "Gimme my tool box." Fortunately for Bug- and his teammate’s own continued safety- the man knew what she meant and where it was kept. He quickly retrieved and handed her a stainless steel case. Jill smiled at him "See ? Teamwork makes the dream work !" she laughed, and patted his cheek. The dull-minded thug grinned weakly.
Jill opened the case, gloved up, and removed three tools. "Bug, don’t take this personal", she began, and made a noise like a hiccup. A puff of air hit him square in the face, and his whole body tensed. She placed her ear near his mouth, and watched his chest for movement. The rise and fall were jerky, but present. She sighed gently, then smiled softly. "I still think you can do good, Buggy, you just need to…not be such a damn man all the time ! Now, you’re not gonna die. Well, you might, but it won’t be from my hiccup !" she laughed. A look of terror crossed the wounded man’s eyes. "You’re just paralyzed. I know this will hurt like hell, but… maybe this can be a teachable moment, okay ?"
She probed at the wound with the first tool, frowning as she failed to find the bullet. She switched the probe to her left hand, exchanging it for her scalpel. She cut at the wound site, expanding the area a bit. She bit her lip in concentration as she switched back to the probe. She inserted the tip back in the wound, gently moving it about, waiting for a clicking feel that would tell her she had found the slug. She smiled when the probe hit something. Switching hands again, she used forceps to grab at the bullet, giving several firm tugs before it emerged. She wiped the wound gently with some gauze, making a slight pouty face as she applied.
"That’s a lotta hassle, Bug, I won’t lie to you. You know, we’re supposed to be working here toward a less… contact with armed individuals method of doing things. All of you have a ranged weapon; you personally have several throwable incendiaries that you really should stick with. I appreciate your primal need to impress me, and it really is very touching, for the most part. However, should conflict like tonight’s occur again, do not charge in a like a bull in rut. Your punch is weak, you have no gun… you….just get your *** kicked for no reason. Let the other two stooges cover you, take your time and know your role."
She bandaged the wound, removed her rubber gloves and threw them into a small trash basket on the front floorboard. She started the SUV’s engine, made sure Bug was buckled in and rolled his window down. "You need fresh air so the neurotoxin can wear off. It’ll take a while, so be patient. When you get mobility back, you’ll want to puke. Please aim out the window, we can go to a car wash if needed."
She pulled away from the curb, punching a button on the GPS as she did so. "Gentlemen," she began, then was interrupted by a groaning from the back seat. "And, insubordinate bastards," she interjected irritably. "I think we have exhausted our viable options for this region, I would like us to consider travelling north to perhaps explore industrial endeavors, high finance, and such things. I welcome input." She remained quiet for a long moment, listening to the sounds that six scared men make at such a time. She grinned widely. "Northbound it is, then !" She turned to Bug, who was beginning to look nauseated. "I enjoy these talks we have !"
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Deep thanks to Sooner, an excellent writer and even more excellent friend for getting me out of my lethargy and writing again.
No "notes" this time. Lotta swearing, but y'all can fill in the blanks LOL -
It had been this, or the Harley. Given a choice, he would have rode the growling motorcycle to the group home, but Miss Silk had laughed and told him she didnt think it would look real professional. He was certain this wasnt any better. Cliffords 42 Dodge truck seemed to grumble gutturally as it traveled, the scarred brick-red finish making it look like some infernal beast come to life. The old man had looked sternly at Hunter as he handed him the keys, lecturing him "not to get a damn scratch on it." Hunter wasnt certain how Simms would even notice a new scratch on the battered vehicle, but was careful nonetheless.
Tucked away on a cul-de-sac, the group home was literally hedged in from its neighbors. Thick foliage of various plants surrounded the home, with Sixties style wood and brick covering everything leaves did not. He knocked on a thick wood door, and waited. The door was opened hesitantly, bright light and random shouting pushing its way out of the gap. A heavily wrinkled face appeared, framed by unnaturally red hair. Cigarette smoke curled from the womans mouth. "Yeah ?" popped from her mouth as if she had burped.
Hunter handed her his card. "Im here to see Robert McCade", he said, trying to sound pleasant. The woman uttered a barking-like laugh. "Heh ! Robbie ! Little ******* is a troublemaker!" Hunter looked down at the crone-like woman. "So I understand from his file," he said flatly. "May I come in ?" The woman peered at him for a moment, then whipped the door open wide so that he could pass by her. "Hang on and Ill get him," she growled. "ROBBIE !" she shouted to no direction in particular. No answer came from the hallways off the main room. Frowning, she stomped off down the left one.
Hunter sat down on a nearby couch, which promptly outgassed the smell of dried urine. He quickly stood back up, frowning to himself. He could see other residents of the home passing through the kitchen on their way to somewhere else. One was a skinny man-boy, no more than five feet tall, wearing only an adult diaper. He stopped suddenly, balled up his fist and punched himself in the jaw hard enough to stagger himself. He shook his head, and walked toward Hunter. Stopping in front of him, he extended a bony hand toward Hunter, as if to touch him.
"DAMMIT ! LEAVE HIM THE HELL ALONE, BILLY !" the old woman shouted hoarsely. The skinny man darted from the room, scrawny legs carrying him. "Hes a little ****," she stated flatly, as if to apologize. "Robbies back in his room if ya wanna go see him. Being moody and all. *******." Hunter thought if he heard this woman utter "*******" one more time, he would try and get the skinny guy to punch her in the jaw. But, the Institute needed the client base. He needed to build a reputation in this town. So, he smiled, and followed her down the hall.
A short, thickly built man sat on a bed in the corner of the bedroom. Thick glasses drew attention to the wide-eyed look he gave Hunter as entered. The man did not speak.
Hunter turned back to the woman. "Okay, this report says Mr. McCade has exhibited disruptive behaviors ? Can you explain what he does ?"
"Gets his roommate pissed off. Causes trouble," she replied.
Hunter looked back at the man sitting with his back to the wall. The man had the classic rounded features and thick tongue that typified Down Syndrome. Hunter knew that more often than not, a distinct lack of aggression was prevalent among people with this disorder. The complaint- on the surface- made no sense.
"Uh how does he piss" the roommate off ?" Hunter asked. "People like him are classically non-aggressive I just dont see it."
She scowled at him. "Gets him all riled up !", she barked, pointing at the other man in the room.
The man sitting on the other bed was as opposite as possible to Roberts appearance. Over six feet tall with straggly gray hair, he looked back at Hunter with bloodshot eyes. "FRANK ! TELL HIM WHAT THIS LITTLE **** DOES TO YOU !", she said, her voice bouncing off the walls in the small room.
"He LOOKS at me !", the taller man replied, glaring at Robert.
Robert became visibly frightened at the commotion, and sunk into the corner of the walls. Hunter quickly found out why. Frank lurched to his feet, easily crossing the room and lunging toward Robert. He swung a large fist at Roberts head.
And missed.
The fist impacted the wall behind, the crunch of cheap paneling bouncing back. Frank drew back his other fist and swung. Another miss. Another crunch. First fist again. Miss. Second fist. Miss.
The woman barged past Hunter, finally trying to pull Frank away from the terrified Robert. Hunter grabbed Frank in a restraint, using fulcrum to shift him back to his own bed. "FRANK, KNOCK YOUR **** OFF !" the woman yelled in the wild-eyed mans face. Hunter pushed by her to examine Robert. He knelt down at the bedside, reaching gently toward the frightened mans face. There were no marks at all. Roberts hair, meticulously hair sprayed into place each morning by a bored house staff, was not marred. His glasses had not moved perceptibly on his face.
The wall behind Robert was a different story. Cracks and splinters marred the paneling where Franks fists had slammed into it. Hunter hadnt seen Robert move; the man looked paralyzed with fear the whole time Frank was swinging. He hadnt tried to run, hadnt screamed, hadnt done anything to defend himself. He just sat there.
Didnt he ?
An idea began to form in Hunters mind, like someone slowly turning up the volume on a radio. What if Robert didnt have to run ? Clearly, Roberts reaction had been genuine terror, so Hunter guessed the disabled man didnt believe he could withstand Franks punches when they hit.
If he was actually hit. If he could be hit.
Could Robert be a meta somehow ? Could this man be the Institutes first real "customer" ?
Hunter was yanked from his deliberating by the womans grating voice. "DAMMIT, FRANK ! YOU BUSTED YOUR ******* HAND THIS TIME !" She turned back to Robert. "And YOU " she screamed, gesturing at Robert.
"Are coming with me," Hunter interjected loudly, still looking at Roberts face. Hunter stood up, and turned on his heel to face the woman. He made a show of removing his cell phone from his pants pocket, and dialing a number. "Im closing this hellhole. If you try to leave, Ill have you arrested for abuse. " The womans jaw dropped. "Actually.." he stopped and looked around "..when these folks get here, they may decide to arrest you anyway. And Id cheer em on. Youre like a damn worm in the gut of humanity and you need **** out into a prison where you can scream like a scalded cat all day."
A stunned look crossed the womans face. She began to speak, and apparently thought better of it.
Hunter turned back to Robert. "Would you like to go somewhere nice with me, Robert ? Somewhere people dont yell, and theres no Frank to scare you so bad ?"
Robert looked at Hunter, speaking for the first time. "Frank grrrrr go RAAAAHHH !", he grumbled, making panicky punching gestures in the air.
Hunter looked at fear in the mans eyes, and pondered a long moment showing the abusive woman what true fear could be.
"Robert, my name is Doctor Michael Hunter ", he began.
"Migle Hunnerr", the man replied, his tongue slurring the sounds.
"Yes," Hunter smiled. "Migle would be fine. Should I call you Robert ?"
"Rrrobbie. Rrrobie Micabeuh", Robert said back, as if he was used to giving his name to those who asked.
"Then I can be Migle and youll be Robbie."
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Fish in a barrel
It doesn't look good...
for the Chi-O's
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Quote:Originally Posted by Vega
The bad thing is that I want to be one of the hunters.
Yeah, he's a smarmy little guy ::mutters:: I'd hunt him on a HERO
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You just keep getting better Wow, indeed
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::tries to pick up jaw off ground and fails oh so very epically::
Wow
Just....wow ! -
I'm happy to be cheering on Connall ! GREAT writing !
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Glad to see dimension on Conall Great stuff !
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Very, very nice FD ! I like the style, and the humor ! Really entertaining !
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is a helluva drug !
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Is reassuring when dogs (and those who love them) need it the most
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Quote:Originally Posted by Ozmosis
Aw drat, I hate it when good people leave!
Take it easy Uun, hope to see you around!
Yeah, and we can't get rid of the a-holes with a crowbar !
Will miss ya, Uun !
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Quote:Well, we do cuss... sometimes a LOT...but I've never seen us as being defined by that. What I DO see in JS is very, very knowledgable people when it comes to the mind-numbing minutae of this game (MATH ! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFFFFF ! IT BURNSSSS !Originally Posted by lordseraph23
Sounds like Jello Shooters may be my kind of channel need more in-game cussing IMO. I may have to join that one for sure.
), some VERY skilled players... and a lot of colorful personalities that satify the boho side of me.
As far as the "adult conversations", we have 'em... anytime of the day or night, on most any topic. We tend to avoid religion and heavy politics, but beyond that, everyone has something they "bring to the table", so to speak. We welcome anyone who can stand us, and suffer fools better than most, for longer than most. (But not forever)
To quote Saint, one of our merry little tribe, "Jello Shooters, where we don't always know your name, but we can usually guess your dysfunction." -
::grabs Wolfie's rump::
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Mahwidge ! Mahwidge iz whut bwings us togeffuh...TODAY ! Mahwidge, that bwessed awangement... THAT DWEAM, WIFFIN A DWEAM !
Gratz, to you both, you team-killing guy, you ! -
Quote:If you can stand it, Sharkhead is pretty plentiful with presents.Originally Posted by FearlessDecoy
In that case, I'll be opening presents in Cap tonight, for the next few hours or so.
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When I bother, I play Neopets. They pretty much stay in the motel all the time, and I zap one with a mutating ray daily. That's it...move along...nothing to see here.
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I still have at least one vill that needs all the Winter event badges, so I'd be happy to throw in on this.
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Quote:Bet yer notOriginally Posted by Sooner
I am so there! I think ::grabs up a ball bat:: we need to prioritize your computer repair at Best Buy...
::hugs Soonerbud:: -
I was a big fan of the A Very Special Christmas releases in my teens, so some of my all-time faves come from those (I HIGHLY recommend 1-3)
1. Little Drummer Boy- Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band (VSC 1)- My absolute favorite, bar none.
2. Little Drummer Boy- Jars of Clay (yes, I just like the song !)
3. I Saw Three Ships- Sting (VSC 3)
4. Oiche Chiun (Silent Night in Gaelic)- Enya (VSC 3)
5. Gabriel's Message- Sting (VSC 3)
...and, the "guilty pleasures"
1. "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch"- Whirling Dervishes
2. "Christmas Balls"-Heard it on John Boy and Billy, can't find who actually sings it.