Those poor thugs *laughs*
*I* wouldn't want to be on her bad side!
Quote:
*chuckles maniacally*
|
Originally Posted by bamaHulkers
"I have two loaded pistols and could kiss you to death before my tongue tickled your molars. Your argument is invalid."
|
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
*munches popcorn*
Pax
If you take time to help others, you help yourself grow.
If you take time to help yourself, you realize how far you have to go.
If you take time for chocolate . . . you've discovered the secret to a happy life
!GL & be safe in game & real life!
*hug*
Pax
Robbie was bored, but had no words that would explain just how much. That was up to Hunter, and after so long without a decent challenge to his knowledge, he was failing miserably. So they sat and looked at each other across the large wooden office desk. Robbie looked blankly at Hunter and let out a breathy sigh. Hunter laughed softly at the purity of his expression. No malice, no manipulation, no ulterior motive; he was just bored.
Hunter studied the few test results gathered so far. Files from the group home were next to useless, with only the barest basics. Once a person was in there, they were a meal ticket, no longer a human being with emotions and a soul. Just a dollar sign on a balance sheet. So, other than clinical data which explained Robbie’s disabilities, there wasn’t much to work with. Again, Hunter was failing to make progress.
Sure, there were still tests to be run, both medical and psychological, but Hunter realized Robbie was essentially as lost at the Institute as he had been at the group home. The difference was there was no oversized roommate trying to slam his head into the paneling here. Robbie had developed coping mechanisms, and now that the dangers were gone, he was ironically free to do whatever he wanted without any suggestions as what his choices were.
He broke the silence. "Robbie, is there anything you’d like to do ?’, he asked. Robbie looked back blankly at Hunter. "Teevee ?", Robbie answered, his voice still fairly flat, showing little enthusiasm. Hunter frowned; television had clearly been a babysitter at the group home, and he was reluctant to reinforce that mental limbo by sitting Robbie down with a television to vegetate. Besides, there was only one TV he knew of in the Institute so far, and it was in Spider Silk’s room. Surely she wouldn’t want to entertain a retarded man just because Hunter was stumped for ideas. He began to thumb through the folder again, hoping for something to jump off the page.
Lost in thought, Hunter didn’t hear the footsteps come to the door. Even though the door was wide open, Spider’s boyfriend Junk Chunker tapped on it with one massive fist. The sudden thumping caused Robbie to startle and turn around as fast as his compact form allowed. Hunter simply looked up, smiling at the man in the doorway. "Hey Junk… everything okay ?" he asked warmly. Junk’s voice rumbled a bit with the reply. "Uh…yeah. Me and Spider was…" he began, looking into the room at the new arrival. A laugh echoed in the hallway behind Junk, and Spider stepped around his bulk. "We were," she began, correcting Junk’s grammar, "wondering if we could get to know the new kid on the block ?" Hunter grinned at the young girl’s directness. "Well, Spider, you can actually do more than that. You can help me think up something interesting for him to do. He says he’d like to watch TV, but I don’t want to park him on a couch so he can watch Family Feud."
"How about a movie ?," she replied quickly. "Movies are a bit more stimulating than that broadcast crap. Bet they didn’t have movies in that shithole he came out of. He might like a movie." Her rapid speech amused Hunter. When she and Junk had officially moved into the Institute, she had been soft spoken, speaking hesitantly until Hunter had gained her trust. Junk was still protective of the waif-like young woman, but she seemed to be- sometimes literally- stepping out of his shadow more and more. Her idea broke the logjam in Hunter’s head, and gave him one of his own. He rose from the chair and began to root around the cardboard boxes still stacked against one wall of the office. After some muttering, he found what he needed; a small video camera with a tripod.
"What I’d like you two to do is film Robbie. I need to see how he interacts with…people that aren’t trying to cave his skull in," he began, turning back to the couple. "Just set this up behind the TV, hit record and do…whatever." A rough laugh burst from Junk’s lips. Hunter looked up at him, and was greeted by a poorly contained grin. He tried hard not to laugh as he walked over to the big man. "No, Junk…", he laughed softly, "you can’t borrow it later." Spider looked back at her boyfriend, who failed to quit grinning in time. A small fist struck him in the ribs harder than seemed possible.
Hunter smiled, biting his lip so he wouldn’t laugh and share Junk’s fate. Spider glared briefly at both of them, then a giggle escaped her lips as well. She took the equipment from Hunter. Junk started to laugh again. "Is this stuff insured, because I’m about to beat his *** with the TRIPOD !", she threatened weakly, looking back at Hunter. "Enjoy the movie," Hunter smiled, biting his lip once again.
**************************************************
Spider peered through the viewfinder of the camera. For such a small camera, it had good resolution, and a number of features. She could see the whole side of the room, her colorful tapestries showing up well in the small screen. Junk waved at her, making a funny face for her amusement. It worked. She grinned at his clowning, and went to join him on the couch. "Good enough," she thought.
Robbie sat stiffly on the love seat on one side of the room. They had asked Hunter if there was anything additional they needed to know about Robbie before they took him. Hunter had paused, then said flatly "Don’t get him wet…don’t feed him after midnight." He laughed as Spider struck him on the shoulder, then assured her that- outside of the obvious- Robbie was an otherwise normal adult, and was actually older than they were. "You’re not babysitting, Miss Silk," he smiled, returning to the name he called her when they were first acquainted, "You’re just watching a movie with a new friend."
Robbie’s portly physique prompted Spider to offer Robbie a diet soft drink, which he was now slurping softly. "He seems so uncomfortable," she thought, a gentle frown crossing her face. A silence hung on the room as she stared at the newcomer to "their little family" as she had began to think of the few people the Institute housed. Junk broke the silence by starting the movie playing. A burst of seventies style "Kung Fu" music burst from the speakers as the movie began. Robbie startled, his eyes getting wide behind his thick glasses, then the bright colors and fast cuts of the opening credits caught his attention. As was his habit at the group home, he sank lazily back into the cushions as the movie started.
"Ninety minutes of nothing," Spider thought, "That’s what Doctor Hunter will see. Us sitting on the couch, watching a cheesy Bruce Lee movie. For ninety minutes." She sighed, frustrated with Junk’s choice of movies. "And poor Robbie will probably be scared ******** fifteen minutes in. Oh yeah…this will be delightful."
But to her surprise, Robbie seemed to gain interest as the movie went on. Little by little, he inched forward on the love seat until he was on the edge. He began to smile during some parts, his rapid speech becoming unintelligible to her as he continued. "He’s laughing at the fight scenes," she thought, a smile starting on her face as well. Even when the action slowed for a dramatic passage, Robbie was plainly watching the movie with interest now. She relaxed, and snuggled up to Junk on the thrift store couch they sat on.
Finally, the fight between Lee and The Bad Guy came along. After some poorly dubbed dialogue, Lee and the villain began to dance around each other, throwing attacks at each other at random. Robbie was grinning now, and jabbering excitedly. He rose to his feet, and with a step was in the middle of the room. He began to wiggle, a clumsy mimicking of the onscreen action. Both the younger metas laughed as Robbie made gestures like Lee. The action increased, with Lee showing the blindingly fast moves he was famous for.
Spider watched as Robbie began to shake. He was moving much faster now. His motions seemed more compact, he wasn’t as comical. Yet, his laughter began to echo off the walls of the small room. He was enjoying himself, but that shaking was starting to scare Spider. Had Hunter said something about Robbie having seizures ? She looked at him again. He was fairly vibrating now. Was he actually blurring ?
"Junk, he’s seizing !" , she blurted. "Get him and I’ll get Hunter !" She jumped up and was almost to the door when she heard two thumps behind her. The first was a smacking sound, like skin hitting skin. The second was Junk’s bulk falling to the floor. She turned around quickly. Robbie had stopped moving. Junk was propped against the couch, slowly regaining his feet.
She looked first at Robbie. He was frowning now, his eyes wide again behind his glasses. "Are you okay ?", she asked, placing a hand on his cheek. "Are you hurt ?" "No, no hurt," he replied, still looking shocked. "Show me your tongue, Robbie. Let me see if you bit it." He stuck out his thick tongue. "No, no blood." She sat him down on the couch. She clumsily fetched a cold drink from the small refrigerator in the room, quickly opening it and offering it to Robbie. She didn’t know what else to do.
Junk rose to his feet. "What the **** was that ?", he asked the room. "What the hell happened to me ?" He looked down Robbie, his body making an eclipse of the room’s light as he bent toward him. "What did you do ?" "I not do NOTHING !", Robbie protested. Junk growled at the much smaller man, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out why he just ended up on the floor. "Let him alone, jackass !" Spider threatened. "Can’t you see he’s scared ? You’re probably giving him flashbacks of that goon trying to beat the **** out of him in that group home! "
Indeed, Robbie had backed up on the love seat, now wedged firmly into the cushions. He was drinking the coke in small sips, his eyes darting toward Spider in apparent fear. She frowned, speaking gruffly to Junk over her shoulder. "Make yourself useful and grab the camera. Maybe Hunter can make some sense out of this."
Junk grabbed the entire assembly, removing the camera from the tripod and handing it to Spider. She pushed the playback button, and they both watched. The images didn’t help much; Junk approached Robbie to help him, then was suddenly knocked back, losing his feet and ending up on the floor. They rewound the action, watching it again. Both were quiet as answers didn’t come. "Slow it down," she finally spoke. She pushed the button to do so, and gasped.
Robbie was trying to copy Bruce Lee. He wasn’t seizing, he was moving. His pudgy legs danced clumsily around on the rug beneath his feet. His short, thick arms whirled about him in bizarre windmilling motion. He even hopped a few times. And he was smiling and laughing. He was happy. There was no real focus to the motions; they were just joyful physical outbursts from someone enjoying themselves for a change.
And they had been a blur to the "normal" people in the room.
He had been that fast.
The images played on as Junk moved painfully slow in comparison to Robbie’s joyous frenzy. Then a wild gesture caught Junk squarely across the jaw, and he collapsed backwards to the floor. Robbie hadn’t been seizing. Robbie was a meta. This short, frightened, mentally retarded man was a meta. "Junk, honey, take the tape to Hunter. I’ll be right there." Junk paused, then strode out of the room.
Spider squatted down so that she was eye to eye with Robbie. She touched his face again with her hand, getting a smile from him. "Welcome to the family, little bro," she smiled, a tear in her eye.
Certainly an interesting story, Hulkers.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Quote:
|
Originally Posted by bamaHulkers
Spider squatted down so that she was eye to eye with Robbie. She touched his face again with her hand, getting a smile from him. "Welcome to the family, little bro," she smiled, a tear in her eye.
|
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
She watched the children on the tidy playground. Squeals of joy filled the air as they ran, smiles on their small faces. A breeze made the leaves of a nearby Japanese maple move in small spasms. The sunbeams played hide and seek, darting frantically behind random leaves and branches of another tree.
Jill was miserable.
She had given "the boys" the day off, lying that banks were too busy on a Saturday. When the truth actually was, the poison was getting to her. Not the treacherous physiology that was her worst weapon now, but the soul-deep poison of all-encompassing doubt that had crept up on her slowly.
The money was good. She could stop now, divide the sum of their jobs among the surviving crew, and her portion would carry her for many years to come.
Utterly alone.
A childs laughter. A mother calling. She looked across the way at a young couple. The woman rested her hand on a noticeable "baby bump" A man (must be the dad) toted a small ice chest to the bench where the woman sat. He kissed the pregnant womans cheek. They smiled at each other.
Utterly alone.
Jills hand went behind her, the familiar heft of a pistol butt filling it.
Two children ran by, screaming.
Jills hand back around smoothly, moving the gun to her lap.
It looked like the man was making a sandwich for the woman. She patted her belly and smiled at him.
Jill knew from experience she could bring the pistol up, peer down the sight and target the womans forehead, all in one fluid motion. She would then pull the trigger smoothly, and the womans head would cave in slightly as the bullet passed through that happy face. The womans curly hair would be matted at the back of her head, leaving surprisingly little bone and tissue fragments as the bullet exited.
And I will still be utterly alone.
The pistol whipped around. Finger to the trigger now.
The couple kissed.
Jills finger placed tension on the trigger. Her eyes narrowed. Aiming. Her eyes narrowed.
And began to well with tears.
A motion, and the gun was back in her waistband. A return motion. A small box appeared in her hand. She snuffled as she pushed buttons, then began to cry again as a familiar voice spoke.
"Youve reached Michael Hunter, please leave a message."
I know she's crazy and all... but I feel for Jill.
And Hunter was an *** to her, before.
D'aw... This is a sad addition. 
They need to talk. Good and evil need not enter the equation.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Whoa.
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
*cries*
She stumbled again. One hidden blade became not so hidden, but she managed to get it sheathed again. She knew she wasnt the most graceful woman, but this was embarrassing. All she had ever wanted was to become one of the elegant killers known as Widows. She had been given her chance, and she was ******* it up. Bad. She was moving about the test area like a newborn colt, every trip and misstep making her more nervous than when she started. Finally, maybe even mercifully, the lights came on in the testing area. She knew they had been watching her, knew they had seen every gaffe, and knew they were almost certainly unimpressed. She had failed her dream, and nothing to blame but her genetics.
She exited the room, returning to a small locker room where she turned in the Widow gear, and changed back into street clothes. The other stop would be the worst; she would have to face a representative of the examiners, and hear the verdict she already knew was coming. She bit her lip not to cry in frustration when it did.
As she left the building, the hallway was suddenly blocked by several Bane Commandos. They wordlessly gestured her to stand aside, one even threatening her with his energy mace. "Must be someone important," she thought as she obediently stepped back. Four Fortunatas entered the door, a chill following them in. The light in the hallway took on an instant gloom, and the sultry revenant known fearfully as Ghost Widow entered the building. Her entourage began to move in phalanx fashion, moving almost silently back the way the girl had exited.
In one fluid movement, Ghost Widow stopped and turned to face the girl. Her void black eyes met the girls and she spoke. "You failed. Leave." The phalanx parted; there was nothing between the girl and the door now. She looked longingly at the daylight outside. She could easily re-enter that world; todays defeat would fade eventually. But even dreams of becoming a killer die hard. Her body may have failed her, but her looks never had. One last try, she thought.
She blinked purposefully, her lashes fluttering. A mocking pout turned into invitingly pursed lips. She blinked again. "Is there nothing I can do to be one of your girls ?", she growled softly. Ghost Widows laugh was like a small explosion in the absolute silence. "Get some grace," she replied, sounding like an amused lioness facing a mouse. The final try had become the final embarrassment. It turned to anger, and for a long moment, the girl entertained dreams of slapping the smirk off Ghost Widows face. Of gouging those obscene puppy dog eyes with her thumbs. She had a spark of what made her desire the life of a Widow.
Ghost Widow laughed again. "Most people forget that I can read minds. Of course, they dont regret it long because that revelation comes just before their untimely death." She let the words fall on the air like dead leaves. "However, that wont be your fate. At least not today," she smiled. "Few people have had the nerve to stand a breath away from me and wish my violent demise. Even fewer resist the urge to run like a terrified animal once they realize how foolish they are being. You have the instinct to want to kill, and the nerve to stand in the face of your enemy. We can work with that."
For the first time in hours, the barest hint of a smile crossed the girls face. Maybe her last ditch effort hadnt failed after all ? Maybe shed be given another chance ?
Ghost Widow heard the thoughts, and grinned, enjoying what was coming next. "Report to Black Scorpion. Well make you a Soldier."
************************************************** ******************************
She was jammed into the black Soldier armor; "good fit" was not a requirement in the trainees equipment. She was given a scratched and dinged Arachnos pistol, and sent to the range to learn how to use it. Her graduation exercise was a raid on a Crey lab, the goal to eliminate as much resistance as needed to obtain some needed computer files. She and five other Soldiers entered the lab.
One hour later, she alone emerged. Her armor was scarred by energy blasts, her helmet showed signs of physical combat. Blood was visible at the corner of her mouth. She added to this image by spitting a small puddle of it on the ground in front of the Bane in charge. Red tinted her grinning teeth as she produced a briefcase with the data discs inside. "Where are the others ?", the Bane asked. She spit again, laughed hoarsely, and told him.
************************************************** ********************************
Scorpion and the Bane studied the Crey data as it crossed the screen. Scorpion had shown a particular interest in the results of the graduates first mission together, so the Bane had forgone a formal presentation for merely answering questions as the armored brute asked them. Scorpion nodded at some of the answers, laughed loudly at others. Finally, he wanted to know the lethality of the latest crop of recruits, especially "the new girl on the block."
The Bane paused for a long moment. Even though he knew this question would come, he also knew the answer could mean a quick death before the explanation was done. He breathed in through gritted teeth and began.
"One hundred and ten percent kill, Scorpion." The Bane said "The new girl was squad leader."
"How did she get a one hundred and ten percent kill ?, " Scorpion asked, his brow furrowed as he was forced to comprehend numbers.
"She also killed her partners" the Bane replied.
************************************************** ************************************
"She doesnt play well with others, I guess. She can be Makos problem" Scorpion had finally concluded after talking to the girl. "I like her style, but shes ******* crazy. She can take orders, she can definitely kill, but she cant work as part of a team. Let Mako have her for his pet project. "
The Bane nodded dutifully, and turned to leave the room. His exit was interrupted by a booming laugh from Scorpion, followed by a bemused order from the villain.
"And get me some more recruits. It seems she depleted our stock."
************************************************** ************************************
The young woman sat in a rusted lawn chair on the paving stones next to what would appear to a very large koi pond. She was waiting patiently for the ponds sole occupant to rise to the surface. She knew better than to go swimming with it. If the breeze of the ocean could be blended with the clinging atmosphere of a sewage treatment plant, this room would be the result. She smile despite herself, and waited. This was her last chance to work with Arachnos before being forced to return to the streets in utter defeat. Maybe walking, maybe in a dumpster. Maybe in several dumpsters, given the reputation of the pools occupant.
A splash of murky water drenched her totally as he exited the pool, landing with a wet sound in front of her. She had heard about Captain Mako, but like most people still living, she had never actually seen him. The sight of the severely mutated man caused her first wavering since she failed so miserably in the Widow testing.
His eyes were beginning to slit like his namesake. His hands were like webbed talons, and his skull actually seemed to be molding itself into something more streamlined. And his teeth. He grinned down at her, much like a rabid cat would gaze at a crippled rodent. She remained in her chair, but only by concentrating hard on not running. If this
man
was to be her new boss, then so be it.
************************************************** ************************************
It was actually pretty simple. "Some bank robbing *****" had "been making noise down south," Mako had said. This in itself wasnt the problem, Mako had noted, since everyone had a right to make a living how they saw fit. Even when it involved killing people in horrible, torturous ways, which, Mako added with a grin and maybe too vigorous nodding of his mishapen head, "was always a nice touch." No, this bank robber and her boys had only come to Arachnos attention when she started using the organizations money laundering banks as her means of sudden and violent income. This was bad for business, Mako explained sagely.
Makos newest associate had shown her willingness to kill, and her unwillingness to work with anyone else. "A perfect candidate", Mako had laughed when given her folder. "A simple killing," he told her, handing his protégé a stack of printouts. "We have the womans image, her name, and managed to intercept a recent call of hers to a local doctor. I want you to hire on with this man, and when our
little annoyance makes her appearance on his doorstep, I expect you to make me proud and waste a lot of bullets doing it."
Her grin made Mako grin.
Interesting...
...*gives T a quarter*
Quote:
Very.
|
Originally Posted by bamaWolfie
Interesting...
...*gives T a quarter* |
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
He belched, and hoped the misty remains of dinner wouldnt 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 wasnt 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 wouldnt 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 Hunters 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.
Robbies 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 Robbies 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 didnt 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. "Were gonna take this show on the road," he said.
************************************************** *****
A sudden noise in his ear disrupted the mans 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 speakers 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. "Im 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 wouldnt be coming out. Unless it was feet first.
************************************************** ***
Robbie had marveled over the Paragon City Museums 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 Robbies 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 Robbies attention had waned, and there was no retrieving it. He began to fidget, waving his hands about. Hunter glanced back and smiled. "Well 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 Robbies 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 wouldnt 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 hadnt 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."
Quote:
*nods, laughing hysterically*
|
Originally Posted by Sooner
shamed his poodle....
 |
Max?!
Interesting...
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
"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 shelters 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 Jills 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 drivers 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, hes 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 dont have any money, the gain of which is pretty much chief goal in this collective endeavor. Overall, they dont 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 Bugs face. "Bug, we dont do what we do to hurt people. I was a doctor once. Granted, I worked on dead people, so "hurt" didnt really enter the picture, but still. We dont 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. "Dont be the reason someone else hurts." A memory of Hunters 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 someones heartbreak," she finished. She realized the speech had been more for her benefit that Bugs, and she smiled bitterly.
There was a silence in the rig, and she instinctively broke it. "WHO HAS TO PEE ?," she laughed. "Cmon, lets 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 hadnt 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 wasnt 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 wasnt 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 didnt 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 didnt 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 theyre 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 didnt let her indulge too often. "Orange slices would rock. Maybe Ill 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, maam ?", 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
cant find the orange slices. Do you have any ?" The lady laughed "Why honey, you were right next to them ! Unless were out." Jill thanked her, returning to the aisle.
Jills 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 Jills pistol did when she chose to fire it. The sensation of hard metal pressing onto his spine told him she wasnt 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."
Interesting...
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
Jill seems to be healing. Hope she can maintain control of the boys when she's not ******* nutso.
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 !"