*huge smile*
He had told several lies, and he felt only a little bad for it.
But there were some things Hunter didn't need to know, and they were things Max chose to pretend he had forgotten. Things he used to be, things he still was. Hunter thought he knew the worst about Max, and reluctantly agreed to move him into the Institute while he worked on the Smart Armor for Robbie.
How reluctant would the actual truth have made him ?
************************************************** *****
Max slipped through the unlocked door of the lab facility (His pass-codes still worked...Idiots, he had laughed to himself.). He had told Hunter he would have to get a few things from his old worksite before he could settle in. Wrap some loose ends up. Except, it looked like someone had beat him to it.
There was no natural light in the building; no windows to let in sunlight or streetlight aura. Still, Max refused to turn on the interior lights, choosing instead to use a flashlight with a blue-tinted beam. He had expected to gain entry to the lab, grab one or two small items, and leave again. As he moved down the hall, he began to notice a hint of ozone in the still air. Even for what the techs did here, that was uncommon. He stopped, and shone the light around. Long scorch marks marred the metallic walls of the hallway. He paused, and drew a pistol from a jacket pocket. Moving quietly, he reached his former work area.
At first he thought there had been a fire, maybe an explosion. He passed the flashlight's beam over the walls, looking for torn metal, wiring, anything that would explain what had happened here. There was none. Instead, he saw blackened holes; holes that looked like they were made by
An energy beam.
This had been a firefight. The scientists who worked here were trained in the use of energy rifles, but they were ultimately just nerds with guns. There had been a few guards, but a prideful emphasis on the invulnerability of the Crey access systems kept the human factor here to a minimum.
Looks like someone found a vulnerability, he mused darkly. He stood still for several minutes, closing his eyes to listen for distant footsteps, any noise that would indicate he was not alone in the building. Hearing nothing but his own steady breathing, he continued to survey what had happened here.
Max suspected the guards had died first, probably surprised in the front hall he had entered through. Whoever had done this proceeded to the lab itself and began to look for...what ? He moved to a computer terminal and turned it on. After several keystrokes, he found what he had feared; someone had hacked and stolen the plans for the Smart Armor. Then he smiled bitterly.
The fake plans for the Smart Armor.
Max and his co-workers had known the project had combat applications, and that they weren't the only game in town when it came to battlefield technology. To protect their work, they had moved it off the main system, onto a thumbdrive. Rationale being, if someone violated the system, they couldn't find what wasn't there, but if they found something close, they might quit looking.
Apparently, whoever did this, hadn't been fooled enough.
Being the project leader, Max carried the thumbdrive. And still did. His change of heart from mercenary architect of war to fugitive hadn't been a sudden one; it actually started with a passing question from a co-worker: Who do you think we're building this for ?
Max had paused, and realized he didn't actually know. He started asking up the food chain, and was finally told with a laugh Whoever pays the most.. Time alone to think and drink that night persuaded him that uncertainty was no longer acceptable to his conscience.
He was also shocked to find he still had a conscience.
He figured when he went missing, his co-workers would be coerced into finding him and retrieving company property. So, he had taken on the appearance and lifestyle of a homeless man, waiting for the day he would have to kill one- or more- of his former friends to keep the Armor technology from become a wealthy despot's plaything. Now it looked like someone had taken that task off his to-do list.
A quick search of the company's internal communication network confirmed it: All members of of SA Research Team found dead by Assailant or Assailants Unknown. DB does not yield SA schematics, Corporate Espionage Not Ruled Out. The date on the memo was last Tuesday.
All members... He carefully read the list of team members. His name- at least the one he used here- was on the list.
They thought he was dead.
He read the list again. People he had laughed with, suffered stress migraines with, drank with after work. These people were slain by assailants unknown. Just because of where they worked, where they chose to spend their brainpower.
He looked around the lab one last time, trying to hear his friends' voices in the silence. They were no longer there, not even in his memories. Knowing he had made the right decision to take the armor specs didn't make the silence anymore bearable. He stood still for a long moment.
A motion-activated camera, secreted in the clutter of a nearby desk during the slaughter of his co-workers, whirred imperceptibly and transmitted. A high-definition image of Max was on its way.
I wonder if Crey REALLY thinks he's dead, or if that's a piece of disinformation.
Also, I wonder where that picture went.
Interesting....
*hands Major T a quarter*
yummm more story, like where it is going.
@tiggy
Beware the attack cat
Quote:
Indeed.
|
Originally Posted by bamaWolfie
Interesting....
*hands Major 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
Max left the lab, and disappeared into the night. Maybe Crey's personnel department was clumsy enough to believe he was dead, but he had to believe whoever butchered his co-workers knew better. There hadn't been enough random destruction for it to have been anything but a carefully planned strike by professionals. So, he had to believe he was not just still being pursued, but that it was beyond nerds with guns now. Someone would know they had missed one, and would certainly want to cut off that loose end.
Time to collect his other equipment.
The homeless man disguise served him well in this neighborhood. This appearance was known, and he had intentionally caused a few fistfights to ensure a reputation as a man not to be trifled with. He had always made sure the fights were close. If he was too proficient, people might suspect he was more than he appeared, and that would have caused attention. Now, it seemed the element of surprise was gone.
He bumped the door on the rundown pawn shop, and walked to the counter. A thickly muscled man rose from a lawn chair, dropping a girlie magazine noisily on the floor. He strode to the glass-topped display case, staring at Max for a long moment before a crooked smile crossed his face.
“Don't suppose you're here to shop ?”, he growled.
Max returned the man's gaze, shaking his head. “Need the bag, Mitch. Time for it.”
Mitch's grin disappeared. “Goin' back to work ?”, he said solemnly, starting to the backroom.
“Hope not, Mitch.” Max called behind him loudly. Then to himself. “God, I hope not.”
************************************************** ****
The bag was battered, purposely nondescript so that it wouldn't look out of place on a bum's shoulder. Interior compartments protected the contents, but the exterior remained shapeless. Perfect by design. It rode well on his shoulder as he shuffle-walked through the district. He turned down a side-street, then up an alley. A bum in an alley shouldn't cause attention, but he still glanced over his shoulder as he walked through the grime to the backdoor of an upscale diamond shop. Using an agreed upon knock, he rapped on the thick metal door, and made a overly cheerful grin for the security camera he knew would activate within seconds. There was a pause, then a harsh buzzing sound and the slide of thick bolts in the door.
An immaculately tailored man looked down at Max. Anyone looking at the scene would be baffled at the businessman's calm when faced with what appeared to be a homeless man.
“The box ?” the man asked Max.
Max sighed, then nodded. “Yes.”
The man looked solemn as he shut the door. Max listened to the noises of the block as he waited, and suddenly felt very alone. The door opened again, and the man presented Max with a medium sized box. Max took it without comment, pausing only to slide it into the shoulder bag. When he turned to thank the man, the door was shut. The metallic clunk of the bolts slamming home reminded Max he was in the open with some very valuable belongings. He looked for the nearest shadows, and returned to them.
************************************************** ***
“Wake your *** up. We're gonna talk”, an unfamiliar voice grumbled at him.
Max had been exhausted when he reached the Institute last night. Junk had let him in, and showed him to an empty patient room. Max slid the bags under the bed, then showered, changed into a t-shirt and shorts, and climbed into bed. He had slept in small stretches, still acting on the instincts the street had instilled in him. Finally, after the third time reminding his brain he no longer slept under an overpass, he had drifted off to a deep sleep. A sleep interrupted by the irritated voice of an old man.
Clifford Simms crossed the room and sat in a chair. His “sidekick”, Mr. Suggs, stood silently next to him. They had both stared at the sleeping man for the past hour, after removing the bag from the underside of the bed. Now it was time for the man to wake up and answer some questions.
“I SAID WAKE THE HELL UP, ******* !”, Clifford yelled, his voice echoing slightly in the room's confines. Max jolted awake, and slid to the floor to grab at the bag. Not finding it, he spun to face Clifford.
“Don't worry, I didn't open the damned thing. I don't have to. Know what's in there.”
Max struggled to focus as he woke up. He sat back down on the bed, glancing up at Simms, who stood and crossed the room to stand over him.
“You open this bag,” he began, “And especially if you open that goddamned box,” he added, his voice elevating. “I will kill you myself. Guaranteed. “
Max focused on Simms. Threats weren't impressive to him, he had dealt with many braggarts in his time. He took a deep breath, and considered this one. “First of all, who the HELL are you ?, “ he asked in a measured tone.” And if you didn't open the bag, how do you know about the box ?”
Simms smiled bitterly. “First of all, name is Simms, but my name isn't the thing here, yours is. I know what it is, and I know it ain't Max. Second, not only do I know who you really are, I know what you used to be. Before the Crey ******** you handed Hunter. So, I know there's a box in there, because I know a man don't go to work without tools. Which brings us back to my original statement; if you're bringing your work here, I will kill you where you sit. I will make a cave right here in this damned room, and Suggs will make you into a cave painting.”
Simms paused, letting his words settle on the air. “Now that we have the niceties outta the way, why don't you talk for a bit ? Convince me why you deserve to leave this room alive” Max glanced across the room to his bag. If it was just the old man, he might stand a chance to get to the bag and run. But he knew this wasn't just an old man. And that pile of rocks was faster than it looked.
It was clear the old man knew more than just guessing would have yielded. And, besides the very direct threat of becoming a bloody splotch, hadn't actually made a threatening gesture. Time for an overture.
“How...do you know who I am ? We haven't met before. Hunter could have told you, but that doesn't explain how you know about... my previous employer. ” Max began.
“Ain't nothing previous about that “employer”, son. You may be retired, you may think you have left them. But you have a skill set that doesn't exactly loan itself to workin' at the quickie mart. And those people...don't exactly like folks leaving. If they know you are here, they will come. And I'll deliver you to that front door with a bow on your butt rather than see any innocent person hurt..”
Max considered this. He didn't resent the thought, it would be fair. But that still didn't explain how...
“I knew your daddy,” Simms blurted, answering the unasked question. "He was a good man. A hero. We worked together. I knew he had a son, and I knew he consistently called that son “A worthless sonuvabitch. A villainous sack of dog **** that in no way sprung from my loins. A damned disappointment.” So yeah, I knew about you long ago. But let me tell you this, man to grown man. Your daddy loved you. He was disappointed as hell how you turned out, but he never truly hated you.” Simms indicated the bag. “You can't always leave the wounds of the past behind, but you can damn sure learn from the scars they leave. You can determine to change. Ain't never too late for that. Hunter says you can help our little retarded feller. Says you can do something can't no one else do. Can I choose to believe that ?”
Max considered Simms again. His comments about Max' father should have had more emotional kick-in-the-gut to them, but after a few hundred reminders- from his dad mostly- Max' numbness had proved thick enough that the bitterness didn't hurt anymore. Mostly.
Yet, this agitated codger seemed to be a bit different. Seemed to know who Max was, and didn't care. He talked of second chances, and actually believed in Max being able to pull off what he claimed. It was all Max wanted; a chance to change. He smiled weakly. “Yes, sir. The bag stays packed, the box stays closed.”
Simms smiled in return. “Well ****, then get your lazy *** up and get to it. Show me your daddy had a reason to believe.”
Who'da thunk Clifford could be so.... um.... aggressive. 
Quote:
So many questions...
|
Originally Posted by Sooner
I wanna know what's in the box!
|
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
There ya go again, more questions then answers..... Good Story btw.
@tiggy
Beware the attack cat
The lock clicked loudly as Hunter pulled the door shut. It was Clifford's idea to put that up there, and I agreed. I showed you because... if the time comes, someone on-site besides me needs to know. Spider looked up at him with worried eyes. He smiled back at her. Just remember it's there, and we'll hope this door never gets opened. She smiled weakly, and nodded.
************************************************** *
Just rock over it. It's a door, not a gaping chasm filled with lava, Spider sighed, getting exasperated with her boyfriend. Junk was, by trade, a construction worker, but had moonlighted enough to be skilled in home renovations. I can rock over it, no problem, but why ?, he asked. Junk, sweetie, can you just do it ? Hunter's paying well, and it's just the one task. Wouldn't hurt us to have the money., she pleaded, smiling.
He pondered for a moment, then picked up the slab of sheetrock in his thick hands. Easy money never hurts, he smiled. He worked diligently, taking care to make the repair seamless as possible.
Some time later, he stepped back from the wall and grinned Like it was never there, he murmured to himself.
************************************************** *****************************
This is... a calming blue. I am calmed by this color. It truly is... a calming blue.
The wide paintbrush was swallowed up in Junk's paw-like fist as he painted the sheetrock. He was speaking to his girlfriend, a slender girl with rather plain features. Spider frowned at her hulking sweetheart; she knew when Junk was being sarcastic, and since she had chosen this color, his comments weren't exactly welcomed.
I was going to kick a puppy, but I saw this blue. I was going to go swimming immediately after eating, but I saw this blue. I was going...to mix whites and colors in my wash.... BUT THEN I SAW THIS BLUE ! Halleluah, thank you Jeebus ! He grinned at his own humor. Spider, unfortunately for him, did not.
She stepped toward him, until she was standing only inches away. Junk, my love, I am getting the distinct feeling here you're mocking me. Mister I Pull Toilets Out Of The Ether and Throw Them At My Buddies For Fun....
It was only that once ! Bill... Junk began, his smile leaving.
SHUTUP ! IT MATCHES THE DAMN CORRIDOR ! THIS WAS A MENTAL HOSPITAL, SO THEY USED A CALMING COLOR ! Spider yelled.
Uh...baby... I'm for thinking it's not working. he smiled. However, if it will help... he continued, then daubed his nose with the wet paintbrush. Focus, Spider-san... focus on my calming blue nose
Spider bit her lip not to smile. Junk honey, you keep on about my taste in paint, and you'll have another blue body part... and it will not be calming. Not to you, at least.
Junk pondered this carefully, smiled silently, and went back to painting the sheetrock.
************************************************** ************************
It should have been a challenge to get in here, and it wasn't. All it took was portraying a doe-eyed graduate of a secretarial program, and some fast talk about how she had read some of Dr. Hunter's fascinating articles, to win him over to hiring her as the new office manager It seemed to piss off that little street urchin *****, but she was of no consequence. She pondered toying with the dumb ape that was painting the wall that hideous blue, but she had work to do before her target arrived here.
Hunter himself showed her around ; Seeing the sights, he had called it. The *******. There was one area, an old dining hall, they did not enter. She asked innocently what was in there, and was told it was being set up as a lab-slash-work area for a project one of the new staff was working on. She gently prodded as to what the project was, but was gently rebuffed and told he figured she would see when it was ready. She made a point of studying the doorway and the thick steel door installed there. She wanted to know what was in there, and who was working on it. Might prove valuable.
But for now, she was content to study. She studied the handful of people who lived here habits, personalities, any signs of meta powers. No one was doing anything flashy, so eventually she settled for planning for her escape after she killed this unfortunate bank robbing *****. She already knew how the actual shooting would happen, and had scouted her exit off that floor itself.
Of course, if she just did like her real boss said and just killed everyone...
Easier sure, but not as skilled, she figured. Although, the skinny girl might be worth wasting a bullet on, because she truly was a *****. Hell, she might kill the Jill ***** in front of Hunter, the skinny ***** in front of that painting doofus in the hall... then just kneecap the guys so they could watch their women die ! The Jill ***** was Hunter's....wasn't she... wasn't she ? She furrowed her brow, and resolved to read the file again so she could finish planning the fine details of this job. She spent the rest of the day walking the halls, remembering all the turns, and every door. She fell asleep that night content she knew them all.
She was wrong. By one.
Oh... this is goooooood.
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
Interesting....
Now WHY do I give T a quarter?
@tiggy
Beware the attack cat
Ya... I think they needed to go another shade calmer on that blue.
and I'm anticipating a thorough *** kicking for the would-be assassin.
Quote:
I trademarked that word |
Originally Posted by Tigers_Rule
Interesting....
Now WHY do I give T a quarter? |
I'll give you a 20 cent discount
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
Max watched the monitor as the white dots whirled about, a constant data stream moving down the right side of the screen. The figure onscreen was a short squat assembly, seemingly comprised of glowing ping pong balls. It was dancing jerkily; a barely discernible smile crossed Max's face as he looked up to the figure in the motion capture suit at the center of a large square on the lab's floor.
That's good, Robbie, he spoke, his voice carrying easily to the man. A pair of blue eyes squinted through a slot in a black mask on the man's face. I legtric nijja !, a happy voice spoke, muffled slightly behind the fabric. Spider Silk giggled from the chair beside Max. She and her boyfriend, Junk Chunker, were assisting Max in gathering measurements for the Smart Armor that would be painstakingly fitted to Robbie's movements. They had uncovered the disabled man's blindingly fast reflexes by accident while the trio were watching a Bruce Lee movie one night; a similar movie would provide the next round of data.
Junk, couldja grab that Kung Fu flick ? We're gonna need it for this, Max called across to Junk. The hulking young man scowled at the scientist, mainly because of Spider's proximity to him. He stomped over to a shelf on one wall of the room, snatching up a DVD in one paw-like hand. He looked back to the table where the electronics were set up, and grinned bitterly. Max wasn't looking up... this would be good. He turned his hand, as if to skip the video like a stone across the room, then threw it. Except it disappeared.
His command of his power wasn't perfect, but it was plenty good to make the movie suddenly appear on Max's keyboard. Max grinned, but did not look up as he moved the case. Gravity control, I'm guessing. You can make a short-distance wormhole. He paused for effect, then looked up at Junk Chunker. Limited to line of sight. The measured rebuff worked as intended; Spider got mad.
JUNK ! WHY YOU GOTTA BE SUCH A DICK ?! HE JUST WANTED THE DAMN MOVIE ! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO SHOW YOUR *** LIKE THAT ?! The skinny girl leapt from her chair, crossing the room quickly, stopping only after purposely colliding with Junk's chest. We...are...helping...ROBBIE ! We...are...helping...DOC HUNTER ! , she scowled, her brown eyes flashing at him. He looked down at the waif-like Spider, and was immediately cowed by her glare. He started to smile shyly, trying to appease her. 'DON'T BE A DICK !!, she blurted suddenly, jabbing a slender finger sharply in his thick chest. She turned on her heel, fuming as she went noisily back to the table.
Max looked purposely down at his keyboard, hiding his grin. He hadn't meant for the big man to be chastised, but the effect was fully intended. Junk's expression showed he would be co-operative now, and his help would become very valuable in the next phase. Max knew things about the man whose street name was Junk Chunker, and knew that if he was truly angry, he was well capable of much worse than chest-beating over his tiny girlfriend. He respected the youth for his passion, but without his tools in arm's reach, Max would be near defenseless if Junk really lost his temper.
He was thankful for the tiny beauty that controlled her beast with a mere word of disapproval.
************************************************** ****************************
The movie ended, and Junk moved to Robbie's side to make sure he had quit moving before Spider could come close enough to help Robbie out of the spandex and wiring that was the legtric nijja suit. The shorter man looked up at Jukk and smiled. I not kick you, Jukk. Junk folded thick arms and smiled back I appreciate that, Rob... don't think I don't . Spider giggled, and stood to help Robbie.
Max played back the data capture, staring intently for several minutes before straightening up and standing for the first time in hours. Got what we need, he smiled tiredly. You three get gone... I have some old friends to talk with, and they like their privacy. A lot.
************************************************** ****************************
I'm sorry, Max growled, his voice climbing in volume as his frustration grew. I was never made aware that you had lost your balls ? Do you miss them much ? Who was the vet, because I think they might hook you up with some fake ones if we ask.. BECAUSE YOU SURE AS HELL NEED TO SACK UP ! Max bit down on his cigarette, his lips meeting as they crushed the filter. You, really, REALLY piss me off, he grumbled into the earpiece, blowing smoke forcefully into the empty room. You know... I think it's very fortunate that I'm no longer a player in our little game. You can easily do what I need, and yet you give me **** about it. In ye old days.. he mused, letting the words drop. He smiled as the voice on the other end began to speak carefully. Yes... I already sent the specs, Max replied, smiling as the other party suddenly became much more co-operative. That will be fine. Just don't **** this up, it's very important the item is EXACT. Yes, I'm sure you will. I'll be waiting on the package.
Max pressed a button on the earpiece, and resisted the urge to pitch it forcefully at the nearest wall. Fortunately for the earpiece, that was the last business call that Max would make this evening. Now it was just a matter of waiting. He walked to the thick steel door that was the only entry to the lab, and punched a series of buttons. The door hissed open, and Max entered the hallway. He padded to Hunter's office, knocking politely as he opened the door. The new secretary was still at her desk, with no sign of Hunter. Max sighed, but decided to leave a message with the woman anyway. I'm expecting a series of packages. Please let Doctor Hunter know the project is still on schedule.
Max swore he saw a sinister-appearing grin cross the woman's face as she looked up; he dismissed it to his fatigue, and just generally being pissed off.
I most certainly will., she replied, smiling sweetly.
************************************************** ******************************
Eight times during the night, Junk Chunker rose from his bed, plodding to the front door of the clinic to accept an urgent delivery for...Max. Each courier was confronted by what appeared to be a oversized, brawny child, due to Junk's penchant for comic-themed pajamas and gorilla slippers. He extended a one-fingered salute to the last one of the night, slamming the door with one hand, then picking up a steel-clad box. This **** better be great, because this Jeeves stuff is getting old he mumbled as he climbed the stairs for the last time that night.
He entered the room he shared with Spider, trying not to wake her as he set down the box. It clunked against the others, and he winced, afraid he had woke her. A surprisingly husky voice came out of the darkness. Last one ?, it asked, almost purring. Yeah..., he rumbled softly, glad she didn't seem mad. Good, the voice replied, followed by the sound of a small hand patting a mattress. My turn to get you up.
************************************************** ***
Max finished adjusting the faceplate of Robbie's helmet. There were several designs for this part, he had chosen the goggled one until he could be sure Robbie would cope well with the armor. He needn't have been concerned; between Robbie's enthusiasm and the expertise of his associates only his veiled threats could have produced, the armor and Robbie worked together without noticeable fault. Spider walked slowly around the room with Robbie as he got used to the armor's heft, while Max and Junk watched telemetry on a screen. Occasionally, Max would jump up from his chair, producing some odd tool and adjusting a spot on the armor. He would grumble, returning to his chair while waving his hand impatiently for Spider to continue the walk around the room. Finally, muttering something unintelligible- except for the phrase sonsabitches- he raised a hand to stop the pair from their promenade.
Now, he grinned, Lemme show you what this thing can do.
He went to a spot at the foot of the square previously used for the motion capture. Junk... need you to stand here. He looked over at the big man This is where you're gonna get to show off as well. I really need you to concentrate for this part. Junk smiled crookedly, and moved to the spot. Spider... Max began, then paused Nothing is going to go wrong, just remember that. Some of this won't make sense. I know you and Robbie are very good friends... I'm not going to let him get hurt either. Little guy is quickly growing on me. Spider smiled, a bit nervous, and nodded silently.
Robbie's excitement was showing as he took small steps back and forth in the middle of the square. And...Robbie is ready, Max laughed softly. He strode back to the table laden with electronics. He pressed a series of buttons, and the suit seemed to jump to life. Robbie looked back to Spider, a scared look beginning to cross his face. Max flashed an okay sign to her, and she took a relieved breath. Robbie... do you wanna be a super hero ? she asked, her voice halting at times. Zooperheero, he replied, a smile appearing through the worried frown.
Max had briefly explained to Spider and Junk how the armor worked. It could be remotely controlled to perform various combat maneuvers, but it would also learn from Robbie's movements, and would eventually be controlled by Robbie's ability. In short, the armor would teach Robbie's body how to fight at the blinding speeds it was capable of. Even though she had retained all of this, the sight of the armor springing to life had scared Spider, and she tried to hide it from Robbie. She smiled at him, and he had smiled back. She held up a thumbs up to Max.
Max said firmly. Junk... I know you can pull objects from...nowhere and throw them at a target. It's your turn to trust me. Picture something small in your mind... and throw it at Robbie. Junk paused; How the hell does this guy know so much about me ?' his inner voice growled. He decided to throw wide of Robbie, just in case. He moved his hands, and a computer printer flew from a spot just in front of them. He sent it flying, missing Robbie by six feet.
Robbie stood in the square, puzzled. The armor hadn't flinched. Max had anticipated Junk's reluctance, and was not angry. It's not a dog catching a frisbee...it won't play fetch, Junk, he smiled. In fact, it really won't do much of anything unless Robbie is threatened. Now... at Robbie this time.
Junk thought for a moment. He pictured a bar stool, and shot it toward Robbie. In one fluid motion, the suit rocked back on one foot, bracing as the other leg arced gracefully up. Robbie's foot hooked to one side, and the bar stool became splinters.
Spider clapped enthusiastically. Max smiled. Junk laughed nervously. I was concerned... Junk began.Understandable, Max interrupted, waving a hand. Something faster now, maybe a little meaner. Junk nodded, and shot a computer printer from his hands. Robbie caught it squarely with the bottom of one foot, the printer shattering. He laughed. Zooperheeero.. he giggled.
Junk... Spider...Robbie's not scared, so you shouldn't be. Remember that. Max spoke softly. Junk...something bigger. The suit will take it. Junk nodded, and gestured with his hands. A cement bust went sailing at Robbie, the suit intercepting and destroying it. Dust flew over the mat, and Robbie coughed. Spider looked concerned, and began to get up to help him.
Rob...spit !, Junk barked, concern in his voice. Robbie stopped coughing long enough to make loud throat noises, then spit a gray glob to the mat. Spider glared at Junk, then slowly smiled. The big man looked down at his feet We been working on that, Junk smiled self-consciously. Spider smiled back, and sat down again.
Max smiled briefly. Junk.. something really big now. Trust me on this. Junk looked to his girlfriend, who nodded as she smiled. It'll be okay, hon. Go for it. Max looked at Junk; he knew what the mutant could produce from seemingly nowhere, and hoped Junk would think big.
He did. From over Junk's head, a wrecked car body appeared, and headed down toward Robbie. The suit leaped up, shooting a foot out at the soaring hunk of metal, and making solid contact. The car slammed to the ground, shaking the room. Robbie continued to sail, reaching the ceiling before he somersaulted, landing with a thunk on the car, feet down.
As advertised, Max grinned.
Zooperhero !, Robbie laughed.
Quote:
| "Zooperhero!" |
"Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you... you had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end..." -- Q
Yeah! I was just thinking about this today and wondering if there was more.
@tiggy
Beware the attack cat
The life of the woman the media had named Killer Jill was ending as it had began; with butterflies in her stomach, and Michael Hunter in her thoughts. What could have happened had he not been such a unfeeling sonuvabitch that night she bared her heart to him, only for him to coldly refuse to hold it safely, even for a moment ?
In the gray-green dark of the motel room she smiled tiredly as she remembered the words that sent her emotions and hopes soaring into the night sky as their Not A Date was coming to an end.
I need someone in my life
Her dreams inhabited that moment. Everything she thought she had ever wanted came to pass in that second. She had never been happier, never had a moment seemed so surreal, Until he finished the thought...
But not you, Jill.
He had created her that night; in that selfish, thoughtless moment, Dr. Jillian McKenna had died a sudden and needless death. His words had torn her guts from her as surely as a point-blank shotgun blast, and were less compassionate that the gun would have been. He retreated a coward in her eyes, and it was because of him she decided on a rebound date with the industrialist Matthew Talon.
Talon didn't kill her, he just finished what Hunter had started.
She remembered the terror when she realized she had been violated, then left to die in a Talon Industries warehouse full of toxic waste and fumes. She remembered the blackness as she closed her eyes for what seemed the last time, and the overwhelming shock as she took her first breath with mutated lungs.
I am she who liveth, who liveth and was dead, she mused softly to herself.
Armed robbery was an accidental career birthed when her vengeance had left her alone on a dock in the glow of a burning warehouse, Talon and his goons dead by the very poison they had so eagerly produced. Weeping, she donned the clothing that would become her signature look on dozens of bank security cameras; the wide brim hat and the duster, the black shirt and pants. So...unfemale. And the guns.
Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, she could feel the pistols sitting in their rigs, hanging yet clinging to her ribcage, phallic and breast-like at the same time. It was a comfort they hadn't been fired much.
But she had fired them.
People had died at her hand.
And it sickened her. Didn't used to, back when her humanity was freshly dead. But as her body coped with the forced mutation of the toxins, they became less demanding, less all-enveloping of the mind that used to be that of a trained medical examiner. The analyzer of the death has become the producer of it. Now, the psycho-physiological pendulum was swinging back, and Jillian was emerging from the dark shroud of her chemical alter-ego.
So, it was time to give that heartless ******* another chance at being a man for a change.
************************************************** **
She held the envelopes in both hands, like they contained something very rare and valuable. In a way, they did. Each was labeled with a name. Each contained a sheet of paper containing bank account information; each member of her crew was now a millionaire. Jill had already secreted away her share in anticipation of this day, the day when the danger wasn't sexy anymore, when the siren call of a quiet June Cleaver life would become too much, and she would want to quit.
Tonight was the night it ended. She had turned her guys loose once they reached Sharkhead, calling them back together once she had made final business dealings to reward their loyalty. And they had been loyal. The smartassed brawler Mr. Block... the egotistical, uzi-toting, Gruber and Dieter. And the poor three stooges, Billy, Ted...and Bug. They had all been valuable in their own ways, and now it was time for her to show it. Maybe for the last time.
Boys... time for this party train to park for good. This is where we hang it up, and we go our own ways. We've had a good run, but we need to quit while we can. She paused, frowning as she leaned forward to the small group. I remember body bags. What they carried. I don't want to see any of you in one. So, being a good employer with good employees... I've managed to secure two things for your severance package. She waved the envelopes, a weak smile on her face as she handed them out.
Each of you is rich. If you choose to never so much as jaywalk again, you can retire to law-abiding goodness, and enjoy what we've suffered for. However..., she began, looking at Block and the gun twins, Should you choose to make a lateral move, I've also secured a letter of introduction to a group called Arachnos. I understand they're pretty much the one game in town for what we do...or did.
She looked into the face of her dim-witted arsonist, Bug. She leaned toward him, smiled softly and stroked his cheek.Bug, honey, please stay with Billy and Ted. Her eyes began to well up as she studied his simple stare. You have been injured more than a body should, all because you have a crush on me. That is more than any girl deserves, and I really don't want to see you hurt anymore. She looked intently at the other two. If anything happens to him... I will find you, and I will kill you. Enough is enough. You three can survive together. Do it ! She bit her lip to hide her pain and worry in sending the trio out from under her protective wing.
She stood, picking up a shoulder bag containing a black dress and heels she had bought in the last town they pulled a job in. Boys... time to go. Group hug for the road. She embraced each man, biting her lip again as she hugged Bug.
Then she took her first step toward her new life.
************************************************** **
She hugged the duster to her; the spray from the waters on the bay was starting to chill her. She had bought a ticket to some place called Peregrine, and boarded the ferry with the crowd. Glancing discreetly around, she noticed she didn't look out of place. No one seemed to be looking her way, no one seemed to care she was there. Which was good for the next thing she needed to do.
Slipping down to the railing, she looked around again, habits dying hard, but also needed to ensure no one saw her. Left...right... she even looked straight up. No one in sight.
Usually, when she performed this motion, it was almost a blur. It had been a survival skill then, now it would just be suspicious. Her hands slid into the duster, and smoothly pulled out the heavy pistols.
The moonlight and spray gave the pistols a sheen. Jill smiled bitterly as she watched the light dance on them.
Won't need you anymore, she half-whispered, and released her grip.
The pistols fell quickly, disappearing into the wake of the boat. Jill looked around again, smiling as she still saw no one. The empty rigs rose under the long coat, mirroring a load gone from her heart. She look at her hands, and vowed they would never again cause death. She was now defenseless in an uncertain world, but she felt safe for the first time in a long while.
************************************************** ***
The pistols waggled their way to the silt in the bottom of the bay. Something stopped to examine them. The same something that saw Jill drop them. It grinned.
Ohhhhhhhh.... nice freakin' ending!!!
That was fun to read.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.