TALK STORY

Special Branch XII: Back in Black

POSTED BY: CLAYTONPAYNE
UPDATED: Thursday, August 18, 2011 06:13
SHORT URL: http://goo.gl/EURgw
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Thursday, June 30, 2011 1:23 PM

JAZAF


"Be ready to move. You will be going to a more permanent station on Beylix. The tests and repurposing of Soul will continue there." "Repurposing?" Kurren's face betrayed his curiosity. His employer laughed, "You don't need to know the big scheme of things. Your job is only to ensure that Soul remains in the new facility." "You mean my new job. Because I remember being a bounty hunter, not a merc, and certainly not a babysitter. I've tried to reach my contacts and I can't help but notice that they are missing. My waves are met with static, the seeker programs I have are bringing up nothing, and since none of my boys are the wiser.... Sir" That final word tasted bitter to Kurren. "It seems that I am now a company man. But to keep my boys content I need to throw some coin their way. So since you need the extra security I want the full rate we had agreed on to keep them quiet." The employer chuckled again, as if he had anticipated this moment. Kurren felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "And before I cancel your little experiment I want to discuss my payments." The chuckling stopped which in turn gave Kurren a smile. "You wouldn't.." "Why not?" Kurren shot back. "I'm not the one that needs Soul, I'm not the one that requires Soul to be a one man army, and I'm not the one that will lose all of that incredibly valuable data. What I do need and what I do want, I can get with no problem. So tell me Sir, are we doing business?" Kurren had almost thought he had pushed a bit too far when silence was the only response. But his employer answered back, "Mister Kurren. I do believe we can do business." "Good." Kurren knew that at that moment he had proven himself an assest just as well as a liability. The phrase 'head on a swivel' didn't seem appropriate. If things went bad, he would need divine intervention and he was in no position to ask for it.

[img] http://beta.fireflyfans.net/bluesun.aspx?bid=23239[/img]

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Thursday, June 30, 2011 6:23 PM

SERYN


hiya all, sorry for not posting, not sure why, just seemed to have lacked any kind of inspiration which is stupid given the material, but I figured i aught to do some character re-adjustment for dear old Seryn, as she seems to have gone a bit soft.

-----------------------------

Seryn stood with her back to the engine, twisting her hair into a knot for the fiftieth time and pacing up and down for good effect. This wasn't what she wanted. Well, gosa no, it was exactly what she wanted, to get her friends out of the pits they seemed to have landed in... so why did she feel the need to start pointing guns and making demands?

She'd come down to the engine room to look over the workings. Wisp had assured them all that everything they needed was there, plus some, but somehow she needed to see it working. Optimism wasn't her strong suit. But then.. what was it but amazing optimism to think that uniting their merry crew would only require one little jaunt to some sunny planet, some bangs and flashes and a quick getaway? What had they really acheived after all? They had Wisp, great but Vixen? Wow she itched to slap that one whenever she caught sight of her. She didn't even want to think about Ciaran. But then all she wanted to think about was turning this bucket around and going home to her boy. She turned and made an effort to focus on the mechanics, then gave it up. Who was she kidding?

Arriving at the cockpit she heard Safes breathless curse over the intercom. "Wisp, you are going to have to kick that girls ass soon or i'm going to do it for you." He grinned, until he caught her expression and decided to concentrate entirely on his flying.


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Wednesday, July 06, 2011 1:29 AM

SAFEAT2ND


Safe and Vixen moved their jump harnesses into the shadows of a bridge crossing a pitiful stream. With them safely concealed in the brush, Safe keyed his ear-com, “Wisp.”

He was met with silence. No static, no ghost chatter that sometimes happens with weaker signal carriers, nothing.

“Wisp, Seryn, come in.”

Vixen casually watched the surrounding area, occasionally kicking a pebble and sighing loudly. With each dragging minute, those sighs got louder and more insistent.

“Safe?” A faint crackling reply came from the brush that concealed their harnesses.

Safe dug out his harness and unclipped the short wave jump radio attached.

“Wisp? What’s going on? There no com chatter whatsoever.”

“I know. It’s like there is a blanket draping the whole area. Nothing in nothing out.”

“Can you figure out what’s causing it?”

“I’m working on it. In the mean time we’ll have to use these antiquated radios. The signal isn’t great and the range is worse. Seryn and I are working on boosting the signal. Thing is, get it too boosted and it’ll be like a gorram siren. Everyone will know what’s going on.”

Vixen had already detached her radio and was stowing her com.

“Got it.” Safe answered. “We’ll only use them when necessary. How’s our ‘guest’?”

“Antsy, an’ that’s not good.”

“How so?”

“I’m pretty sure if she doesn’t stop pacing, Seryn’s gonna smack her.”

“Give her something to do.”

“Which one?” Wisp asked after a pause.

“Whichever one needs a distraction the most, dongma?”

“Um ya, easy for you to say. Wisp out.”

“If you’re finished socializing, can we get on with it?” Vixen asked, hand on cocked hip, eyebrow quirked.

“Just follow my lead and try not to kill anyone what doesn’t actually need killin’.” Safe tucked the radio into a pocket and headed up the road towards the Library.

“Whatever…” Vixen dropped into step beside him.



Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Wednesday, July 06, 2011 1:50 AM

WASHSYOUNGERSEXIERBR

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges


“Safe, Vixen someone down there is doing a grade A job of throwing up comm interference [garbled static] Do some imaginative stuff [static] Radio to [static] Repeat Radio to ULW”

Safe turned to Vixen “ULW? What’s he on about?” Vixen already had the back of her radio off and was tinkering with the insides. After a few seconds she keyed the mike in “Roger Radios to ULW” She then took Safes radio from his hand and began to repeat her fix “ULW is Ultra Long Wave. We used to use it when we were doing jobs as nobody ever jams it and it can penetrate where most signals can’t” She finished her work and handed it back to him “problem is there’s a delay in response and distance is a factor. So we’re not gonna get real time help here.”

The Radio came through again clearer than before “Reading you. Calculate Ping Delay. Ping”

Vixen responded immediately with “Kurwa” Pulling the mike away “he used to always like his science stuff but I prefer earth-that-was swearing, used to make him so annoyed. And isn’t he so cute when he’s annoyed?”

“Ping delay exponential at 2 seconds, 100m squared. I figure from when we land we’re gonna be operating at between a one to two minute signal delay. Head 11 degrees west of north from your position for 500 metres approx. Oh and Vixen valika kuja”

“Oh how rude” She giggled back “Come on we’ve got a fair way to go and we need to do it quickly”

The two set off at a fast jog up the gentle slope towards the library. The city smog was close on their skin and both of them soon developed a healthy glow of sweat. As they crested the brow of the hill they stopped to check their bearings and catch their breaths.

“Vixen what’s between you and Wisp? I know there’s a good and bad water under that bridge but where do you stand overall? Is there gonna be a problem?”

Vixen looked up from her map and paused a moment.

“Well Wisp is my Knight in shining armour. The only problem is I’m not sure if I’m the Princess... Or the Dragon”



Wisp touched down the Raven in the nearest commercial dock nearly four miles from where they wanted to be. Through a little bit of begging and bribing he had arranged for a Hover Mule to be waiting outside but between the distance and the traffic they wouldn’t be onsite any time soon. He arrived in the Cargo bay whilst still strapping on his various pieces of body armour and ammunition just as Seryn came from the Engine Room.

“Seryn I need you to stay with the ship. If things hit the fan I want you to bug out try and rendezvous on Shadow if possible. If we need the ship bringing in the Codeword is DOLLHOUSE if we want you to get the hell out of here its SUNNYDALE. Got that?”

“What about me?” Ciaran appeared on the top gantry

“You my dear are going to stay right by my side from now on Dong-Ma? Can I trust you with a weapon?”

“I...I’m not sure”

“Look you’re either in or in the way. Choose.”




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Thursday, July 14, 2011 12:20 PM

KYRA

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be


Fourteen Months ago: The square surrounding the courthouse was sparsely populated by students and the occasional teacher, lawyers with sturdy black briefcases, unsavoury individuals grinning to themselves and amongst them all a young woman sitting upon the steps to the large public building.

Kyra McTaggert thumbed through the files in her hand. All looked to be in place. Now she had but to enter the building, make her way to room 23 on the second floor and submit her registration form. Payne had gotten her the files - the falsified ID card and relevant papers, birth certificate, work record — it was the one last thing he’d done for her before they’d parted ways. Now Kyra had one last step to take, and this crucial step was one she’d have to undertake alone. She’d made it clear, Payne wasn’t welcome anymore, he’d chosen his side. Kyra eyed the new papers and photo that accompanied it — a picture she had had taken a week before and Payne had back-aged. In the photo she looked no older than twenty years old, and it identified her as Emma Roberts. Only, now, she had to register on the Census as a new occupant of Xiangsheng. And registering was tough enough even when you were telling the truth. But if Payne was right, the Crimson Squad — as much as she hated them and what they stood for—were at least good at what they did. Securing her new papers was just one of the stipulations he’d made before accepting their job offer. But in all honesty, if she’d had the choice, she would have rather risked it with less legitimate documents and had him standing by her side than the alternative. But he’d made his choice — he’d sold his soul to them as far as she was concerned, and that was the end of it.

After much deliberation, Kyra stood up finally and made her way into the courthouse.

Now: Luthor twisted his pick in the door handle before pushing the door open. The back room in the Waste Basket looked like it could have done with a clean, but it was by no means the filthiest place Luthor had had the misfortune of entering. Julie followed him in whilst Kyra, lagging behind, was the last to step across the threshold.

Wasting no time, Luthor made his way to the adjoining room where instead of empty cupboards and a damp stench there sat a dozen large book shelves and half a dozen tables, each filled with trinkets and old books—each as dusty and worthless as the next. On the surface, the shop looked nothing more than a haven where surviving relatives could make few credits on their departed loved one’s belongings. Or where avid collectors could mine the place for all it was worth. For the three that stood there now though, it was neither of those things. For Julie, it was a possible glimpse into her father’s secret life; for Luthor, a room which would grant him a free pass off this rock; and for Kyra, a dangerous, unsettling place which could prove to be her undoing. Julie looked through the various items that decorated the tables—an old coin from earth that was, an apple corer, a toy replica of one of the first Lassiters. “You think one of these things is what’s causing the jam?” she asked to Luthor, who pretended to be using his phone scanner to search for clues. “Maybe,” he said.

Kyra absently-minded walked around the tables, trying to look for clues, but instead still focussed on the message that had been sent to her.
Quote:
[His real name is Simon Jupe. Get out whilst you can.]
“I thought you said the signal was weaker here,” Julie added astutely. “Wouldn’t it be stronger if the jammer was here?”

“Not necessarily, depends on the frequency its registering on and what sort of device is causing it.”

Julie didn’t understand how that would work but these sorts of things always had been beyond her.

“Kyra,” Luthor called out to his partner, interrupting her from running her hand across each table and slowly prodding the various items. “You got anything?”

“No,” she answered casually.

“I mean on your phone, any signal?” he clarified. “You think you might be able to contact your friend?”

“Payne?” she answered him without even realising. His name was on the tip of her tongue.

“Yeah,” Luthor replied. “You think if you tell him what you now know he might agree to work with us. He must realise that it’d be better if we put our heads together to solve this thing.”

Kyra sighed and looked up at him. Luthor looked like the same man she had fell in love with. She didn’t see any hint of deception in his eyes; no suggestion that he wasn’t who he said he was. But then again, he wouldn’t have been able to maintain this charade for over a year unless he was anything less than an expert liar.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what he wants anymore.” She answered honestly, more than McNab deserved if he was indeed hiding something from her.

“Well, we sure could use some help here, right?” Luthor looked to Julie who didn’t know how to respond. “There’s people out there that deserve justice, and its about time he pulled his head out of the sand.”

Kyra nodded as she glanced down at the table in front of her. A set of wooden cutlery sat beside a tea-set also made of wood. It looked as if it was a toy set meant for a child, but as she ran her finger across the knife’s blade, she felt it dig into her skin. It was sharp. Sharp enough. Palming the weapon, she slid it up her sleeve and made her way to Luthor and Julie.


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Monday, July 18, 2011 1:40 AM

KYRA

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be


Luthor looked at his phone screen, then up at the ceiling, then back to his phone again. As Kyra walked towards him, she watched as he unexpected pulled a chair from underneath a nearby table and station it where he had previously been standing. Balancing himself upon the chair, he reached up towards the ceiling and pushed one of the panels up, revealing a darkened attic. When his hand failed to adequately reach the inside of the attic, he stepped off the chair, pulled the table towards him and tried again, standing on the creaky wobbling table, (his foot kicking aside the trinkets that sat upon it in the process.)

Kyra stopped and waited whilst Julie asked, “What is it?”

After lifting his body up and peaking his head above the panels, he lowered himself down again onto the table top and pulled out a large cylindrical device situated in the ceiling.

“Woah,” Julie called out, backing to the edge of the room.

The device looked like it could be a bomb, but it didn’t force Kyra away like it had the other woman. Instead she remained frozen to the spot, still concealing the weapon in her sleeve.

Luthor placed the cylinder on the clear table to get a better look at it. It was a cold metal casing, silver with a black plastic rim. Embedded into the top of the device was a screen showing a signal frequency bouncing up and down. Luthor eyed the device and deduced, “This is it.”

Kyra stopped and pondered. Was he telling the truth? Was he playing a game? Had he put it there? Or maybe whoever had sent her the message was playing the game, trying to get them to turn on each other. The photo could have easily been doctored after all. If she’d had a signal, she might have been able to run a trace on this so-called “Simon Jupe” but even if she did, there was nothing to say that any information she found would be any more accurate.

“Does anything else here seem familiar,” Luthor asked Julie. “Anything about this place conjure up any memories?”

“No.” Julie answered

“This jammer,” Luthor said, studying the device and comparing to the feed on his phone. “If it’s here, it’s because either the resistance were trying to hide it, or maybe it does more than jam signals. Maybe its real purpose is to record.”

Kyra stood behind her partner and watched him closely.

“You think my father was here and somebody was using this to eavesdrop on him?” Julie asked

“Maybe, maybe the person responsible for what happened to him,” Luthor answered. “You sure nothing about this place seems familiar? Nothing your father said?” “No,” she answered again. Only, this time, it was only after she'd looked around the room once more, seeing if something would jog her memory.

“What about The Crescent?” Luthor then asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Julie froze on the spot. “What?”

“The Crescent,” Luthor repeated, searching her for information. “An old client of mine, who had dealings with the resistance, had mentioned it. I believe he may even have had dealings with your father personally.”

“You never mentioned that before.” Kyra put to him.

“My client was not a good man, and it was before I'd met you,” Luthor told her. “And when I found out you’d met Torne, well I didn’t see how telling you my client's story would help, not now. But maybe it is important.”

Kyra followed Luthor’s gaze back to Julie who genuinely looked scared, though was clearly trying not to show it. “I don’t know,” she told them.

“This could help us,” Luthor said but Julie just shook her head.

“No, I’ve never heard of it.”

Luthor turned his attention to the device again and placed his hand on the top. Finding his fingers wrap themselves under the groove of the plastic rim he pulled his hand upwards. The device that the metal cylinder had encased now slid out and revealed itself. It looked as if to be made entirely of plastic, with a series of wires, dials, and a central keypad and screen marking the device.

“That sure looks like a bomb to me,” Julie said, backing away slowly. “Maybe we should go.”

“Actually…” Luthor began, “I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

“It sounds like a good idea to me,” Julie snapped back.

“No,” Luthor called back, halting her. “A device like this… I don’t think we’ll get far enough away. I’ve seen one like it before.”

“What, when?” the girl asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luthor said. “But I do believe moving it was a bad choice.”

He looked at the screen that sat above the keypad. The countdown had commenced and was now set at 2:52. 2:51. 2:50.

“I need a code!” he said.

“A code?? We gotta run.” Julie said.

Kyra remained quiet, her brain working things out, her expression telling.

“I’m telling you it won’t do any good. This is a Trimace 3DI, its range will engulf the whole town,” Luthor told her

“Then we’d better get running.” Julie said.

2:39. 2:38

“Maybe it was your father. Maybe he set this up so nobody would find this place. There’s something here they wanted to bury.”

“My father would never…”

“Well then maybe somebody else did it. But either way you give me a code or none of this matters.”

Julie snapped her head around, searching the walls for a clue.

“The Crescent, what is it?” Luthor ordered.

“I don’t know!”

“This is no time for secrets Julie,” he snapped back. “In two minutes, ain’t none of us gonna be left alive to keep any.”

“I don’t know, try typing it in!” she answered him, almost sarcastically.

“Crescent?? No, that will probably set it off. But it’s a code, right? Means something. What is it a number? A password?”

Julie nodded. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

"Gorramit girl," Luthor said, storming over to her whilst Kyra stepped up to the device. The man grabbed Julie by the shoulder and shook her as he demanded: “Tell me! I sure ain’t gonna die for your father, believe me.”

Kyra stared at the clock. 1:48. They could still run. But she had a better idea.

Reaching her hand around the device, she wrapped her fingers around the wires... and pulled them out.

The beeping stopped, just as Julie looked over at her and Luthor finally stopped shouting and turned to look behind him.

He looked astonished, “You did it?”

“No, you did,” Kyra answered.

Luthor let his hand drop away from Julie and slowly approached his partner. “No. How did you…” he started, looking at the device and the wires that now hung from it.

“Baby, I’m proud,” he said. “But that was a hell of a risk, you could have killed us all.”

“With a dummy device like that?” Kyra said. “I saw your phone before, you got a signal on it plain as day.”

“What?” Luthor replied, almost laughing. “What you talking about?” He pulled his phone again and held it up to his face. “I got nothing, still. I don’t know what’s got you thinking this way but I need you to stop, you’re scaring me.” When she failed to reply, he held out his phone as a gesture, “Look, dead as the earth.”

She wasn’t going to fall for it. Holding it so close that he could easily grab her when she moved in to look at it. She knew what she had to do.

“Julie,” she said to the girl who was already ahead of her. “Run!”

The girl turned and threw herself out the door whilst Luthor just watched. Turning back to Kyra he asked, “What are you doing?”

“I trusted you,” she told him. “I thought we could…” She stopped, trying to hold back her emotions. “But you’re just like all the rest... Ain’t that right Simon?!”

Luthor’s face changed and he knew it was over. But it was over for her too. He was determined now – she wasn’t going to leave this room alive.




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Wednesday, July 20, 2011 5:05 AM

CLAYTONPAYNE


Clayton Payne was but a stone’s throw away from the landing yard by the time Agent Kertzler had caught up to him. The man was a few inches shy of six foot and had short dark curly hair, much like Payne himself, only with a thick beard to go with it.

“Shouldn’t you be in the air by now?” Payne told him, genuinely shocked to see the man, who he had been told was good at taking orders, standing there in front of him.

“They’re enforcing a strict no-fly zone,” Kertzler told him. “Said with the comms being down, there’s no way they can let ships in the air. Say it’s too dangerous.”

“No way?” Clayton asked, looking up at the sky and pointing at a copter and transport vessel hovering above them. “Then what the hell are they?”

“I said that to them, they said they got men in the air solely to bring others safely to the ground.”

Clayton bit his lip as he continued to look up at the copter. It was indeed guiding the other ship down to a space on the yard. The pilot continued: “The last of the large vessels arrived yesterday and since then they’ve been trying to restrict the flow on the planet. The communications master has apparently managed to send a shortwave out across the verse, via some old method. The only ships landing now are independent types, coming in from a way. But they’re being forced down as soon as they’re able. I’m sorry sir, but they insist there’s no way. Looks like Agent Morgan will have to go on foot.”

Clayton stared at the agent in question, who had finally caught up with the pilot and joined the agents as they congregated on the street.

“On foot?” Clayton said. “You have any idea how long it would take him to triangulate a signal from the ground.”

“I know sir,” Kertzler obediently answered.

“And you told them this?”

“Yes sir,” he answered.

“Well Kertzler, I’m disappointed. For a pilot you sure ain’t got a wealth of communication skills.” Clayton said and walked back towards the yard with a determined stride, cutting across to section 12 where the Perimeter copter was slowly setting down. Kertzler was close behind whilst the other agents followed the two of them blindly.

“Kertzler, this ain’t no sight-seeing tour,” Clayton called back to the pilot, just as they caught sight of the copter’s propellers. “We’re Crimson Squad, you understand? We don’t abide rules, we make them.”

If Clayton Payne could hear himself, a chill might have run up his spine. “We don’t abide rules, we make them”? It seemed the group’s attitude had been rubbing off on him. But he paid such thoughts no attention, he was too focussed on doing his job. Something told him that they didn’t have much time. And dealing with rulemakers was the last thing he needed.

The pilot of the helicopter caught sight of the men walking towards him, dressed ominously in black, and started to sweat.

“Who the hell are they?” his co-pilot asked, but he didn’t need to hear an answer, they both already knew.

Seeing the transport vessel had been safely guided in, the pilot eyed the controls and was set to lift the coptor back in the air again, when one of the men in black pulled out a weapon and trained it at their heads. Training told the pilot that the bullet wouldn’t likely break the glass… but he didn’t want to risk it, let alone incur the wrath of two Crimson Squad agents.

“Set it down,” Clayton Payne called out whilst Kertzler kept his weapon trained on the Perimeter Police-sanctioned pilots.

The copter settled down as instructed and the two agents climbed on board. “By order of the Crimson Squad, we’re commandeering this vessel,” Payne told them. “You may now step out.”

The two pilots obliged just as a handful of other CS agents, including the tech expert Agent Morgan, joined the men on board.

Steadily the aircraft lifted itself up off the dirt and headed across town.


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Thursday, July 21, 2011 6:12 AM

KYRA

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be


Fourteen Months Ago:

Kyra was sat on the faux-leather sofa, her legs crossed and fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of the seat when the large suited man walked past her and to the receptionist by the desk.

“Any messages?” he asked, reaching the petite woman behind the desk. The man himself was black, with a shaved bald head and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was good looking too, even though Kyra tried not to pay much attention to that little detail.

“Only from a few of John’s ticked off clients, but they can wait.” The receptionist tapped a few buttons on the screen and waited for the computer to print off his task sheet.

“The man doesn’t take one day off in his life and then gets a fever, I’d say he deserves some rest,” the receptionist said about the absent figure, taking the digital paper from the printing dock.

“Amen to that,” the suited man answers, taking the sheet from her.

Then, nodding towards Kyra seated on the sofa, the receptionist tells him, “first for the day is Ms Roberts.”

The law man smiled and thanked her before making his way to the young woman. “Mrs Roberts?” he said, extending his hand to her.

She offered an obligatory smile and stood up, shaking his hand. “It’s Miss Roberts,” she clarified. “Emma.”

“I’m sorry,” he hesitantly offered. “Luthor Mcnab, I’ll be handling your application in Mr Jenkins’ absence.”

She nodded and smiled, all too aware that her hand seemed to be dwarfed in his own and that their greeting had carried on for longer than appropriate. Finally relinquishing hold of her hand, he encouraged her, “please, would you like to come this way?”

And with that they made their way to his office.



Now:

“Simon?” Luthor asked, trying to maintain his story even though his reaction upon hearing the name had already given him away. “What are you t—”

“Save it!” she told him, whilst assessing her surroundings and the likelihood of escape. “I know who you are.”

“Is that right?” Luthor asked. “And who’s that?”

“You’re not who you said you were,” she said, tightening her grip on the wooden knife concealed in her hand.

“Well Eureka darling,” he added sarcastically. “You’ve hardly been a model citizen yourself.”

A metal urn clanged as Kyra backed into it and knocked it over with her foot. The empty container rolled across the floor but neither of them so much as glanced at it—instead the two stared intently at each other, waiting, willing for the other to make a move.

“I didn’t kill anyone!” She said in accusation. “And who’s saying that I did?” Luthor said, feigning innocence.

Kyra quickly glanced around her but never long enough to give Luthor the chance to gain the other hand. She backed towards the front of the shop, towards the locked main door. “Liam…” she began to say.

“I did not kill him,” he asserted.

“You had something to do with it,” she said.

“Kyra, darling, you’re being paranoid.” Luthor said the words with a smile, almost as if he relished the moment. He wasn’t even trying to prove himself to her anymore.

“I think I’ve earned that right,” she said as her back hit the door and she tried the handle with her hand. She didn’t know why she attempted it. She knew it wouldn’t be open. And there was no key nearby, only cobwebs—cobwebs that now covered her hand and sleeve.

“Where are you trying to go?” he asked, deriding her.

“Haven’t decided yet,” she answered him, almost casually.

“Kyra, you have to understand I didn’t want any of this, I just wanted to protect you.”

The young woman couldn’t believe a word that was coming out of his mouth anymore. He was just like all the others—a liar.

“Well you’re doing a hell of a job,” she said whilst making a mental note of the best way to the back door, climbing over and around tables. The only wild card was the man standing in front of her.

“I’ve kept you safe this far,” he told her. “I brought you here.”

“And why? What is it that you want?” She begged him.

“Want?” he shrugged his shoulders. “I just want it to be over.”

Suddenly, he lunged forward at her but she was just as quick and swung her concealed weapon at him. The wooden knife tore a deep gash in his cheek, scarring his otherwise perfect skin. Still startled by that, Luthor was next confronted by an uppercut to the chin with the woman’s left hand. As he stumbled back, Kyra threw herself across the room, knocking tables aside as she smacked into them. In the chaos, she dropped her knife but wouldn’t even notice until she was already out the door.

Luthor burst out of the back door, blood dripping down his cheek and neck and was assaulted by the bright rays of the sun beating down on him. He pulled his hand up to his brow, shielding the light and saw the vague figure of Kyra across the other side of the road. She seemed startled to witness him standing there. But she seemed more surprised by the presence looming above them.

A copter circled above them and now blocked the light from the sun. Looking down on them, half a dozen agents dressed in black. Each of their faces seemed as dull and unrecognisable as the next, but unknown to the two down on the ground, a familiar face stood in the midst of the agents—Clayton Payne.

“Get down there,” he mouthed to the pilot before instructing another to “take him out.”

Luthor turned back to Kyra who still stood there stunned, unsure of what to do, but then Luthor smiled. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone —the very same device he had been using to block transmissions — and punched a few keys. Then, aiming it at the copter like a gun, he winked at the agents and pressed one of the keys.

The engines stopped and the copter lost all power. “KERTZLER?!” Payne called out to his pilot but all he heard back was cursing. With the propellors locked, the copter started to drift across the tops of the shops and headed for the ground.

Kyra snapped her head back at Luthor, he was already running towards her and with vengeance in his eyes. As she threw her body forward - narrowly escaping his clutches - and continued to run down the street, the sound of a copter could be heard crashing violently behind them.




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Tuesday, August 02, 2011 3:41 PM

SAFEAT2ND


Quote:
Vixen looked up from her map and paused a moment.

“Well Wisp is my Knight in shining armour. The only problem is I’m not sure if I’m the Princess... Or the Dragon”


“Princess hunh?” Safe quirked an eyebrow at Vixen just as his com crackled.

“Safe, our hunch was right. Seryn says the radio black is centered on the library. We’re on our way there now. Rendezvous in 15.”

“Wait, we? Who’s watching Ciaran?”

“She’s with me.”

“The ship is empty then? Gorramit!” Safe near shouted into the com. Frustration boiling over. “Who know what or who we’ll find waiting for us if we manage to hoof it all the way back there!”

“Whoa, easy there, Seryn’s at the ship.”

Safe paused clearly confused. Vixen piped up in the brief pause.

“Wisp, dear, I read you. We’re approaching the back of the Library. Be a dear and cover the front. Tata.”

It was Wisp’s turn to stutter. “Ermm… Safe?”

Safe glared at the grinning Vixen, “Roger that Wisp.From where we stand. There’s one…” He paused while Vixen scanned the area with her field glasses and held up two fingers. “..scratch that, two guards at the front.”

“Blueprints showed only three ways in or out. Two are on the back. Keep your eyes peeled. Wisp out.”

Safe and Vixen silently drifted from building to building inching closer. As they reached the last building thunder filled the air as an airship screamed in. It pulled up abruptly and hung over the Library.

Kyra burst through the back door and scrambled across the street. She stopped and looked backwards. Vixen moved to stand when Safe grabbed her arm stopping her. A man had followed Kyra through the door, blood dripping from his cheek but he had paused. He looked up at the airship, across the road at Kyra and back up at the airship. He raised his hand. He was holding something. Safe couldn’t make out what it was.

The man pointed the thing in his hand at the airship. Safe’s ears whistled in the sudden quiet. He looked up startled and watched as the copter drifted towards the ground, rotors still. The man ran across the street towards the equally surprised Kyra. She barely managed to escape his grasp and ducked down an alleyway.

Safe was moving as the copter smashed violently into the ground bringing sound back in the form of a deafening explosion and shrieking metal.

Vixen matched his paced as the moved to intercept Kyra. They weaved down narrow alleys dodging garbage and obstacles, bouncing off walls. They skidded around a corner and vaulted a trash bin before flattening themselves against a corner.

Kyra flashed by. Safe reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her flailing into the alley where they crouched. Vixen clapped her hand over Kyra’s mouth just as she filled her lungs with scream.

They scurried back to the trash bin and crouched behind it.



Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Wednesday, August 03, 2011 6:44 AM

CLAYTONPAYNE


Smoke and dust filled the inside of the cabin, whilst several bodies laid lifelessly, many still strapped into their seats. After a minute or two, some of the bodies started to move and Clayton Payne, unstrapped and having been flung across the floor, stirred. He coughed and dabbed his hand to his head, the cut above his eyebrow still bleeding. Light shone in from what looked to be the ceiling, or what was left of it, but as Clayton looked up again, he realised it was in fact the open cabin door he was looking at. He himself was sitting on the other. “You okay sir?” Kilgare asked in concern. The agent was held in the air, his belt still holding him to his seat. The copter must have turned over when it crashed. Many of the agents seemed fine, although cut up. The pilot however hadn’t been so fortunate. “Kertzler?” Clayton called but to no avail. The window to the fuselage was smashed, and through the shards, Payne could make out the vague form of their pilot, impaled by the end of a broken transceiver pole.

The agents unbuckled themselves and attempted to climb out of the damaged craft. “Sir,” Agent Morgan said, offering his hand down to Payne. Taking it, the agent lifted him up and guided him out of the craft. Sitting atop the cabin doors whilst the agents assisted one another inside, Clayton started to clamber down and dropped to the ground.

“We gotta get to the Library,” Clayton called out, still dazed.

“What?” one of the agents said to another, inside the cabin.

“Sir?” Kilgare said, pulling himself out of the craft and looking towards where Clayton had been standing. He was gone.




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Wednesday, August 03, 2011 7:20 AM

KYRA

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be


Quote:
Originally posted by safeat2nd: Kyra flashed by. Safe reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her flailing into the alley where they crouched. Vixen clapped her hand over Kyra’s mouth just as she filled her lungs with scream.

They scurried back to the trash bin and crouched behind it.


Kyra's heart raced, even as she looked back at the two that held onto her, protecting her.

Luthor's steps were silent and yet each one of them - despite not having the man in their sights - could sense he was close.

Kyra tried to struggle free but Safe shushed her quietly, and tried to calm her.

"Kyra," a voice sounded from the street. It was Luthor's. "Kyra, you don't... you don't understand."

Vixen and Safe exchanged a look, questioning whether the other knew who the large man was. Kyra finally pulled away, removing Vixen's hand from her mouth. Usually it would have irritated her, but seeing Kyra was smart enough to remain silent, Vixen allowed the woman her space.

"You have no idea what you're up against," Luthor continued, out of sight.

Safe tapped Kyra and mouthed, "Who is he?" But the young woman simply turned her back without giving an answer.

"I was protecting you," Luthor called out.

Suddenly, Kyra pulled herself away from Safe and Vixen, and stood. Safe rose too and checked the other alleys, presuming he knew what the woman was thinking. Maybe they could run without him hearing them. He sure did seem to like the sound of his own voice.

"There's people out there, up to no good," Luthor said.

As Safe and Vixen conversed using fierce facial expressions over the best route to take, Kyra took the opportunity to step further away.

"Had to keep you safe, til it was time," Luthor said, his voice sounding eerily close.

Safe and Vixen looked to find he was standing there, facing them. Safe raised his weapon as did Vixen but Kyra halted them with a raised hand, "No."

The man stood with his hands up, seemingly unarmed.

"Time for what?" Kyra said, pushing her fear down.

The man lowered his head. “Kyra, our meeting wasn’t an accident.”

“No, I’m getting that,” she answered. “Time for what? Who do you work for?”

“You’re important,” he says avoiding the question.

“Oh yeah? Says who? Bernie?”

"Kyra," Safe whispers to her, keeping his hands gripped tight on his gun.

“Your lover served a purpose," Luthor tells her. "But his time has come and gone.”

Kyra froze for a second. She didn’t want to ask the question that bothered her now, she didn’t want to know the answer.

“The one I answer to is great," Luthor told them all. "And he has a purpose that will come to pass.”

“Enough Luthor!” she cried out finally in exasperation. “Did you do it? All of this? Liam...”

“One day you’ll understand,” he said calmly. “We’re doing a good thing here.”

“Gorram it,” she cried out. Safe hesitated with his gun. He had no idea what was going on and was cautious about jumping in and asking for answers. He just hoped Kyra knew what she was doing. “I trusted you... we..." She tried to speak but it was too painful, recalling those moments spent together that she could never have shared with another.

“We set his soul free, he’s no longer bound to this rock,” Luthor said coldly.

“And Bernie, you set him free too?” Kyra said, no longer holding back her tears now.

“We can set you free too,” Luthor said in a heartwarming tone, as if what he offered her was something truly more than death.

“Like hell,” Safe said, as he raised his gun at the man now, Vixen following suit. “No!” she screamed out, putting herself between them and her former lover. She wanted answers. She needed them! But it wasn't to be. Whilst Safe and Vixen were momentarily distracted by Kyra, Luthor seized the opportunity. Pulling out a concealed gun, he aimed it for Kyra’s head – a perfectly lined-up shot – and pressed his finger to the trigger.

A shot rang out. Kyra jumped suddenly. And another shot. Her face dropped.

Blood burst out of Luthor’s back, as the bullet passed straight through his shoulder. The other shot hit him square in the chest and sent him crashing to the dirt. Kyra snapped her head around just as he hit the ground, dust kicked up around him.

Safe and Vixen stood still, shocked, their weapons unfired.

Kyra stepped out of the shadow and into the light of the street. More terrified faces - witnesses to the event - cowered behind vehicles and shop windows. Kyra wandered towards the body, glancing around and then stopped. There, in the distance, a face all too familiar.

Julie, the young woman that had only just recently lost her father, now simply stood there and watched. The man that had played in his part in her father's death now struggled to stay alive himself.

She had no qualms about watching him die. She would have gladly fired a third shot at him. But she wasn't the one with the gun.

Julie turned and looked up at the man beside her, the one that had found her in the street as she ran for her life. His gun still smoked. The man had delivered her justice. And he'd saved Kyra, yet again.

With two shots, Needy had saved Kyra McTaggert.


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Thursday, August 04, 2011 12:32 AM

NEEDY

The road to Hel is paved with good intentions


WASHSYOUNGERSEXIERBROTHER has asked me to post this for him

*****

Wisp hated driving. Flying he loved but driving was a personal torture to him. In a ship you picked point B relative to point A and went there. On the ground not only was a direct road between A and B rarely available but there was always a hundred other people going for their A to B with no care for your journey. None of the drivers of this city cared that Wisp was a highly trained killing machine gone renegade on a mission to save lives, apparently their afternoon latte runs and picking the kids up from day care were of equal worth. Impotent rage was the only way to describe Wisps mindset as he sat in traffic at a junction staring at his GPS not getting any closer to where he wanted to be.

Ciarian on the other hand sat deep in self reflection in the passenger seat staring at the borrowed pistol sat in her lap.

“You gonna be okay in this engagement? Cos if you’re likely to bug out on me its best I know now” Wisp didn’t look across as he spoke, just keeping a tight grip on the controls and inching forward as best as traffic would let him.

“I’ll be okay... It’s just...I... I’ve been questioning my motives a lot recently. The choices I made to get here. Lines I crossed. What kind of person I am really.”

“I been there Darlin’. All I can tell you is that at the end of the day you gotta be able to look at yourself in the mirror for ten seconds, scars and all, and still trust in where those calls got ya. Hell I made a few bad calls over the years but I know when they put me in the ground and come to tallying up my markers there’s gonna be more people sorry I’m gone than glad. Well maybe fewer but of much higher moral character.”

Their deep and meaningful was interrupted by the sound of twisting metal and explosions down the road where they wanted to be. A glance down at the GPS and it was informing him of an air traffic control accident and trying to re-route the flow of vehicles away from the bombed out library. Of course as the majority of people are voyeuristic lemmings the drivers of many of the cars around Wisp began getting out of their vehicles to stare and gawk at the growing fireball on the horizon.

“Jesus Gorram-Tards. I didn’t have time for this Gosa before this!” Wisp screamed grabbing his rifle from the backseat. He set the Mule to auto and swung down from the cab. A highly bewildered Ciaran looked around before sheepishly following him.

“But Wisp it’s gonna take the best part of an hour to get there on foot we don’t have that kinda time”

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere on foot Princess but we also aren’t gonna get anywhere in this traffic.”

Wisp was making a bee line through the stationary vehicles and Ciarian looked up to try and pinpoint his final destination. She figured it out pretty quickly. About four cars down the road sat a gleaming motorcycle, one of the sport models that men in midlife crises love to purchase to feel like teenage boys again. It looked sleek in a matt black that almost seemed to suck the colour from the world around it. In a dark purple the colour of a week old bruise the word Sleipnir was written up the side. Wisp walked directly up behind the guy and grabbed the scruff of his neck whilst placing his pistol up against the back of his helmet.

“Get off now.” The man made a mumble of protest “Look” Wisp replied “I have exactly zero time and even less patience. Off” With that he yanked the man from the bike quite unceremoniously throwing him to the ground beside. The bike rocked a moment then the gyro took over and it steadied out. Wisp reached down and opened the man’s visor, the guy looked very unlike what Wisp had imagined.

The man was older than Wisp expected with a deeply weathered face. Pockmarked and cut that only comes from a lifetime of working outdoors in all weathers. There was also a mighty scar running over his left eye well over four inches long that looked like it a stitch holding the man’s face together. Surprisingly he didn’t seem that that scared. If anything mildly amused. Wisp tried not to let the man’s attitude throw him and continued. “This is a credit chip for twice what this bike is worth untraceable. You are going to call the authorities now and report a hijacking then claim of the insurance. Do you understand?”

The man nodded boldly.

“Good you’re a very intelligent man. Keys.” The man reached with his gloves producing a key for the ignition in an almost pre-emptive move. “Now disappear before you test me further”

The man didn’t need telling twice and disappeared into the sea of traffic with a simple nod at Wisp. Wisps procurement had drawn attention of other drivers and some of them were visibly calling officers of the law.

“Great all we need.” Wisp jumped onboard and revved the engine to a growl beneath him. “On behind me. Call Safe tell him we’ll be there in five”

Gunning the throttle they tore away down the busy street weaving between abandoned cars and pedestrians towards the sound of burning jet fuel.

The old man walked calmly to the edge of the road, a few drivers asked if he was okay but he brushed them off. As soon as all eyes were off him he looked at the credit chip in his hand, then let out a deep laugh and let it fall to the floor.

“You’re getting bold old man.” Came a voice from behind him. It belonged to a woman of truly earth shattering beauty. Not the model kind of beauty that comes from eight hours in a make-up room followed by eight more hours of touch ups. But the raw natural beauty that comes from overwhelming confidence. She stood tall at over six feet but still an inch or so less than the old man. Her hair was a cool honey blonde wrapped in an intricate braid reaching down her back to beyond her waistline. Her frame was strong, much stronger than is expected for a lady to have as if her sheer force of will had flowed into her muscles. “First Huginn now Sleipnir. These aren’t toys for mortal men to be playing with.”

“You and I both know that mortality has little to do with it now don’t we?”

The blonde walked towards him hands low pleading “If the Tricksters games are justly as dangerous as you claim then permit me and my siste-“

“No” he replied sternly. The air shook with the strict syllable as if rocked by a blow. “He hasn’t pushed the balance that far yet and by the great North Bridge I will not be the one to tip it first. These warriors are capable. If times were different they would have each earned their place in the great hall ten-fold. But as they stand we must wait until the Tricksters dice have fallen before we make our move.”

“As you wish Great Father. I’m afraid I must go, I have a meeting at the Library to get to.”

“Yes, yes I will see you soon my dear. Let us hope it is before the horn has blown.”


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Thursday, August 04, 2011 3:45 PM

SOULOFSERENITY

The Man They Call Soul...


Even with his eyes closed, Marshall could picture everything around him. Around him, the wind whistled through the crops, most higher than his head. He could envision the golden stalks of wheat, yellow ears of corn, and the blue sky that shone down. Behind him to his left the barn was getting a fresh coat of paint, the wind carrying the faint pungent scent across the field from the tip of poppa'spaint brish. The harvest this year would be their best yet, and with the extra money, Marshall could finally travel all the way to the Harrots Glen and see the massive traulers make their annual planetfall to trade goods from around the galaxy for the fresh food grown here. One year, when he was old enough, he was going to get one one of those ships and ride it as far as it would take him; but that seemed so far away.

He tilted his face upwards, letting the sun warm his skin. Wafting from back somewhere to his right came the aroma of fresh bread, and his mouth watered just thinking about sinking his teeth through the crispy crust and into the warm, soft center of one of momma's wheat rolls. There would be soup tonight, full of carrots and onions, celery and potato, and whatever else was picked fresh that morning, made specifically for dipping the fresh bread in. Then in the morning, poppa would make the long drive into town, the back of the old truck loaded down with as much fresh produce and grain as it could carry. One of the newer Mules could make the trip in half the time while carrying twice as much, but as poppa always said, "I don't trust nothin' don't touch the ground when it goes."

With a sigh, he laid back onto the dirt, the shafts of wheat bending and parting as he lowered his back. He stretched out his arms, fingers tracing lines in the dirt. There was a squeal nearby, and Marshall's younger sister let out a yelp as his brother tackled her. Giggling, she smacked him, probably on his arm, and with a shuffle, she tore from his grasp, her feet pounding through the field. He heard his brother stumble clumsily to his feet to chase after her; but he knew once she had a full head of steam, there would be no catching her.

Then again, she would have to slow down, since his older sister was making the call for dinner, and he heard a proudness in her voice. It was her first time making the soup on her own, following momma's careful guidance. Only momma made the bread, but even that would change one day.

Slowly, he stood to his feet, taking as much time he could in the trip up from the ground. He didn't want to open his eyes, but momma would get real mad if he wasn't sitting at the dinner table before poppa got there. Stretching his arms out again, he spun in a circle, fingers brushing at the wheat all around him, his ears and nose and mouth and skin soaking in everything around him, holding it so tight, not willing to let any of it go. But the wind started blowing faster, poppa started yelling, momma was screaming, his sisters were screaming, smoke raced up his nostrils, the ground beneath him convulsed--

And then Marshall opened his eyes, and the world fell silent and still.

Brown and dead. Everything around him was brown and dead. Poppa, momma, sisters, brother, even the old truck. Brown and dead. The house was gone, the barn a skeleton, the fields now filled with weeds and brown, dead glass. The sun was high overhead, but it's rays were hot and unforgiving, blazing through a brown sky.

Everything was dead, even Marshall. At least that's how he felt.

After all, how does one go on with a dead soul?

* * * * *

The room was empty, save for a single chair under a single bulb. There was the smell of some sort of cleaning solution in the air, sharp and strong. The walls, ceiling and floor had been scrubbed four times, but the stains were still there, signs of the horror of that room that would never truly be washed away. The man in the chair didn't seem to notice, however; his blank stare was void of anything even resembling emotion. Facing him, a screen flashed a series of images and names, imprinting them onto his brain, targets for him to find.

And kill.

"Soul is ready."

* * * * *

"Get up."

Marshall looked up slowly, blinking in the bright light. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying on the scorched ground. It could have been minutes, but it felt like lifetimes.

"Get up."

There was a hand in his field of vision, and Marshall slowly grasped it. He was pulled to his feet, and a man's face finally swam into view, familiar, but at the same time foreign.

"You look lost," the man stated, and Marshall nodded without thinking. "Maybe I can help you find your way."

The man turned away, dead grass and fallen wheat crunching beneath his boots. After a few paces, he seemed to realize that Marshall wasn't following him, so he turned back.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" the man asked.

For a brief instant, faces and names swam through his mind's eye; but they were gone just as fast as they had come. "I...I don't know. I feel as though I've lost everything, but I'm not sure what I had to lose in the first place."

The man smiled softly. "Then let's walk together for a spell and see what we can find. Don't worry...it's Safe with me..."

_______________________________________________


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Thursday, August 11, 2011 8:41 PM

WASHSYOUNGERSEXIERBR

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges


The latest Wisp flashback....

Showers always found the marks he thought he’d forgotten about. Scratches, bites, bruises, they all added up. Before he ended up with Vixen he never really thought about abusive relationships, least of all that he’d end up in one. Sex is a weapon to her. She used it to draw him in and make him fall deeply in lust for her, but now it was a punishment at the same time. Rough didn’t begin to describe it, she enjoyed causing him pain. She’d broken ribs before, concussion was common, and hell drawing blood was just foreplay to her. He was trapped in an abusive cycle of sex and crime. Together they were a great team, robbing high security jobs all across the verse and success was always rewarded with good times. And she could make him feel real good. But failures lead to violent angry sex. Where she wanted to hurt and him and she wanted him to enjoy it. Wisp knew he was stuck in a bad place and part of him wanted to get the hell away from it, but another part wasn’t ready to go. Part of him loved her and part of him hated her. He stood in the shower inspecting the fresh injuries. They’d been on a job to break into a business mans safe but the intelligence had been wrong. Just as he was breaking the safe a detail of guards appeared that they had no idea about. A secret trip had been triggered leaving them well up the creak. Luckily the two of them had managed to get out but he knew what was coming. The shower water turned red as it passed over his back. He winced as hot water ran through the deep gouges left by her nails and teeth. His chest bruises ranging from old yellows to fresh purples from her games. She was outside getting ready for the meeting with the client. He could tell that Vixen was going to kill the man who’d given them the job; she often did that. If she didn’t agree with a price or if things hadn’t gone as planned or if she simply felt they weren’t appreciative enough she’d kill them. That was another thing Wisp hated about her. She had no respect for life. She took as much notice shooting an innocent person as she did tying her shoe laces. People got in her way, he’d watched countless times as she’d turned on people they were working with to increase her profits. The only reason she hadn’t killed him was because of the sick and twisted love she had for him. Wisp couldn’t even begin to understand it. “Wisp don’t spend all Gorram day in that shower we have to meet the client soon.” She called from the next room. She was impatient for her money and the kill, then It’d be back to the ship for more sex. Wisp didn’t know if it would be the heaven or hell kind yet. But they were yin and yang; you couldn’t have one half without the other. Wisp got out and dried himself, taking extra care with his wounds and applying healing cream. He began to dress strapping much more munitions to his frame than he ever used to before. Pistols, grenades and knives were part of his daily uniform now, he never knew when Vixen might turn an every day scenario into a fight for his life. And today had every indication of going very south very quickly. Just Twenty years old and fighting for his life. How time had flown since his escape from the Ariel Youth Academy in his bid for freedom. He hadn’t gotten very free so far. A year after escaping and he was kidnapped by Vankeetsen for nearly two years. Six months on the run before bumping into Vixen and then the last year had been spent being a criminal dating a violent Sociopath. Great job Wisp. He stepped out of the tiny bathroom on their shuttle to find Vixen strapping into her own set of weapons. She wore her standard cat suit as she did on most jobs which showed off her worst weapons-her curves. Still after all the craziness that he knew about she still stirred his primal urges up into frenzy. Nasty hot. “About time hot stuff” She leant in and placed a long, luscious kiss on his lips “We’re meeting him in a cafeteria on the far side of the station. I plan on expressing my discontent about that Gosa intelligence he sold off on us.” “Lets not start a gun brawl today. Graf station is full of people going about their business who don’t wanna get shot” “Sure honey. I’ll try not to kill him” The meeting was taking place on a Deep Space transfer habitat known as Graf Station. It was a simple refuelling stop between the outer worlds and the core and saw a lot of trade passing through every day. Perfect for exchange of illegal or illicit materials. The streets were lined with shops and vendors of all kinds peddling their wares on those passing through. People from all walks of life strolled through these halls looking, laughing, living. He missed the lives they all lead, he had no desire to keep playing this game with Vixen but he loved her too much to walk away. Maybe if he stayed and tried she would change, he could fix her. The meeting was in an open intersection of the station which boasted a number of café’s and restaurants. Wisp took a look around at the innocent scene which he knew would descend into a battlefield in a few minutes. The client was sat sipping coffee in one of the booths in the nearest café. Wisp and Vixen walked over taking note of the bodyguards sitting on three of the nearby tables trying to look inconspicuous like wolves in sheep clothing. Their attempt was more like weightlifters wearing dresses they stood out that much but small time clients meant small time muscle.



Vixen approached the informer all swagger and hips drawing the attention of every red blooded male in the vicinity. The muscle didn’t try to hide their looks, they didn’t even try to hide the drooling. Wisp wasn’t surprised as their combined IQ wouldn’t have been enough to tie a shoe lace. One advantage of Vixens sex hungry approach was that Wisp was barely noticed allowing him the freedom to stand beside the booth as Vixen slid into it with poise and grace. She extracted a cigarette from somewhere in her skin tight suit and lit it sucking the filter with the raw appeal to make a shepherd question his calling. After taking a deep inhale she looked at the client:

“You didn’t give us all the information.”

The client was a short balding man somewhere in his forties. He wore a cheap suit that had obviously been taken in poorly to accommodate his diminished stature. He smelt of an overpowering cologne that must have been equal parts alcohol and fragrance, probably labelled as something like ‘sex panther’. He had a tall coffee in front of him that sat cold, he knew something had gone wrong and he was nervous. He had every reason to be.

“I gave you everything I had! I spoke to one of the guys guards he gave me the whole set-up!” His voice was nasal and whiny. Obviously spoilt as a child by his mother. Wisp would have put a platinum he had a breast fixation. “Anything that happened wasn’t my fault! I couldn’t have known!”

Vixen took another long drag. “Be that as it may. The job was for a set of documents for yourself and the cash in the safe was ours. And a considerable amount it was supposed to be.” She went to take another drag but then stopped and took it away. The client was staring at her lips. Full red and plump, some of that red was probably Wisps blood mixed with her lipstick. “But the job didn’t go down that way. Due to your oversight we were lucky to get out of there in one piece. So we’re out a considerable number of bullets and we haven’t been paid.”

“I don’t have the kind of money to pay what you two charge! Its not my fault you bungled the job-“

“BUNGLED THE JOB?” Vixen snapped. Her body posture changed, no longer was she laid across the seat like a chaise long she was sat straight leering over the table bearing her teeth. The muscle suddenly made to jump up but Wisp withdrew a long silenced pistol and motioned for them to remain seated. They were clever enough to obey; Wisp was surprised. “Listen you Fat cào! We did not bungle the Gorram job! You bungled the information so you’re going to pay us our dues and you’re going to thank whatever petty god you pray to that my Lover asked me not to kill you.”

“I can’t pay! I got nothing! I had a deal riding on those documents without them I can barely cover my business interests”

“If you’ve got no liquid I want deeds to your offices until you do pay”

“I can’t do that! That’s everything I have!”

“You should have thought of that before you got Professionals on board. Deeds now”

The man’s world was falling apart. Sweat was dripping off of him. He looked down at his drink as if lost in thought. Wisp saw it though; he was making a signal to the muscle. This job was spiralling way south way quick. Wisp was about to pop the three guys in a motion but Vixen got there first.

She was not as precise as Wisp was going to be.

Vixen grabbed one of the machine pistols strapped to her chest and released a five second burst into the table of bodyguards. Blood flew everywhere, glass shattered, screams erupted from all around them as people flung themselves to the ground. Wisp followed where the paths of the excess bullets would have flown. He knew the bullets that didn’t hit the guards would have gone into civilians and...oh god. It was a kid. Young boy no more than ten years old covered in blood. It looked like he took one in the chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“I want all the money in all your accounts transferred to this one here.” Wisp was drawn back to the coffee table to see Vixen now with the fat man grabbed by the collar with one hand and the pistol up against his temple. She was pointing down to a pad on the table with bank details.

“Vixen” Wisp managed to whisper “You shot a kid.”

She looked up with irritation in her eyes “What are you on about?”

“You Shot a Gorram Kid!” Wisp now said with anger.

“Saved him a life of misery. Probably would have turned into a rapist anyway. Now” She looked back at the client “Retina! Fingerprint! Or I add your name to that kids in the list of fatalities.”

Wisp looked on in total and utter shock. Vixen was cold and heartless but she had never stooped so far before. How could life mean so little to her? That was a kid. Somebody’s son. He was probably their whole world, taken away in a moment of violent greed that had nothing to do with him. Wisp couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t even begin to comprehend the atrocity he’d just become part of. Luckily for him some of the stations guards appeared and started firing stunners at him. A good opportunity to run on instinct so he didn’t have to deal with the sin and nausea building in his mind.

His pistol disappeared and Wisp threw four grenades in quick succession, first flashbangs then smoke. He rolled away to the right and pulled his own stunner from his back, enough blood had been spilt for one day.

“Thankyou for your payment” Wisp heard Vixen say before a sound of gunfire erupted from her and the clients body fell to the ground. She’d killed him anyway. She was going to kill him one day. Maybe it would be today? She headed for cover back to the left where they’d come from. The smoke began to clear and the guards became visible across the intersection firing from cover positions. Wisp fired high and wide to keep the guards down, Vixen aimed long blasts directly into the flimsy cover they were hiding behind. Blood flew and body’s fell.

“Wisp get the hell over here and lets go” She shouted over the crackles and screams. Wisp sat fixed in place. He looked to his left and saw Vixen encircled in violence and lust, and to the right was the unknown. “Wisp what the hell are you waiting for?” He looked at her with pain in his eyes. “Goodbye Valerie” Pure shock and horror filled her face “No” She cried as her voice cracked and her face fell “You can’t, you wouldn’t” Wisp turned to his right and never looked back as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“NOOOO!” This time she screamed her voice raw dripping with pain “Come back! I swear I will kill every last person here if you leave me. I will make them suffer and die. I love you, you can’t leave me.”

Wisp didn’t see but she was sobbing dark mascara tears. She fired wildly as she cried weeping over and over “Don’t leave me, Don't leave me” Wisp heard her screams and cries as her entered the nearest ship he could find and disappeared into the black.




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Monday, August 15, 2011 11:44 PM

WASHSYOUNGERSEXIERBR

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges


Professor Trepsil needed to get out of his lab. He needed to get out of the facility and off the whole damn planet. His superior’s anger over the Wisp situation had grown to astronomical proportions and the whole project was at risk of being scrapped despite its otherwise perfect record. All trials had ceased, all test subjects had been terminated (and by terminated he meant incinerated). His staff had all been reassigned; research data put on hold pending review. Trepsil had been told he was going to be made redundant with a comfortable severance pay, but he knew better. As soon as the paperwork had all been signed and sealed he would suffer an unfortunate accident.

How had he ended up here? He’d only wanted to do good and help people but his best intentions had all gotten twisted. And now he was about to be disappeared by the great Alliance. At least he’d managed to do a little good, Send out a few messages, maybe save a few lives. But now he was the one that needed saving.

The Ironhoar facility was entirely underground with staff and scientists living and working within its confines. Staff were permitted ample holidays but most didn’t have much family or those they did lived with them. Trepsil didn’t have any close family and therefore didn’t have a ship. Add to that he was currently tasked to stay in the lab without leave. Overall the situation was looking dire. He was a biologist not a commando, this was way out of his league. However if he did nothing his fate was sealed and he wasn’t ready to be expired just yet.

So here he sat compiling all his research onto a single flash drive along with as much classified research he could get his hands on without causing alarm. On another screen he was preparing a virus to erase all evidence of his work and escape. And on his final screen he was planning his exit up a maintenance tube to a shuttle that was currently prepped and ready to fly. It was certainly not the most complex of escape plans, nothing up to what he was sure Wisp would have come up with. He sort of viewed Wisp as a hero to him, some day’s he felt like a proud father looking at his son. Today he just wished he was here to provide helpful hints and tips to what was entirely out of his field of expertise.

He’d had trouble packing. As far as life and death escapes from secret government bases go he was surprised hoe hung up he’d gotten over packing. Most of his wardrobe was smart suits that impressed heads of departments and looked good on podiums talking about protein aggregates. He figured for a daring flight he wanted combat gear and khakis, something loose and light with camouflage colouring. All he had was gym gear. He could have asked the 3D printers to produce something but that would have looked highly suspicious. So he sat in his grey gym gear with a few spares packed into a single carry bag with his lifetime research. One thing he had managed to acquire was a few vials of tranquiliser from the lab and a stunner from his animal testing department.

Overall he felt very underprepared as he opened the bulkhead into the crawl space. Looking at the dark ladder leading up into the unknown he fought down the urge to vomit and set off out of his league.




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Tuesday, August 16, 2011 1:11 PM

KYRA

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be


Kyra stared blankly at the two figures standing across from her, Julie draped in Needy’s protective shadow. Then, with eyes glazed, she looked back at the man dying at her feet. Luthor’s eyes were dull and looked up at the sky, hopelessly. Gently, as if it was all the energy he had left in him, the man let out a pitiful cough, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why did you—” she started, but chose not to finish. She looked down at him now not with anger or confusion—feelings that would soon return to her in time—but with pity. She couldn’t help him. She doubted anybody could. The hole in his chest was all too apparent.

She couldn’t bring herself to touch him, although a part of her wanted to so desperately. Instead she ran her eyes over him and caught sight of his gun, still resting on top of his open hand. Quickly, and without thinking, she swiped her foot across him and kicked the weapon away from his reach. Not that it mattered anymore, there was nothing left in him. The man was still and his eyes drooped.

Kyra bit her lip, trying to gain control of her emotions and then, swooped down and picked up the gun. She held it tight in her hand, pointing it at Luthor, before pulling it away again. As her gaze lingered on the man’s still form, a teardrop fell from her face.

Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder. Safe had begun to approach her, along with Vixen, but they were still too far away to do anything. They didn’t know what was coming next.

Dreamlike, Kyra staggered away and towards the figures that stood there watching her. They were nothing more than vague silhouettes in her eyes, but they stood out more than the cloudy browns and greys of the buildings around them.

“Kyra,” Safe had called out to her, but it was nothing more than an echo, a voice reaching out to her from a great distance.

She felt the handle of the gun in her hand, considered its weight, stroked the metal with her fingertip.

“Kyra, are you okay?” Julie asked sympathetically as she stepped away from the man and walked towards the woman that approached.

Kyra’s eyes were red, her face blank, her mind resolute.

“Kyra,” Julie asked again, just as Kyra raised the gun up and pulled the trigger.

Bam. The slug flew by Needy’s head and embedded itself in the wall behind him. Needy moved, but not quick enough as she pulled the trigger again and Bam! The second bullet punctured the corner or his neck and collar bone, spraying blood in the air as the bullet passed through the skin and ended up once more in the brick behind him.

As Kyra was about to fire a third shot at him, her face blank and still in shock, a hand grabbed hold of her forearm and threw her aim up wildly in the air. Snatching the weapon from her hand, Safe spun her around. “What the rutting hell you doing? He was trying to save you!”

Kyra stared down at her former lover, her eyes dripped with hatred. “No, he only saves himself.” Then, biting her lip, she tells him to “Get up Bernie.”

“Needy are you okay?” Safe offers, about to bend down to help him up.

“Don’t do that,” Kyra says, halting the soldier as she grabs him by the scruff of his collar.

Eyeing her hand, Safe foregoes the opportunity to put her in her place and allows her her moment. “And why not?” He says, standing up and looking directly at her face to face. “What in all that is holy is goin’ on here?”

Kyra looks away and stares down at Needy, his body propped up against the wall. Blood flowed down his neck, prompting him to press his hand up against the open wound. With his other hand he tosses his weapon aside, so as not to provoke her any further. Still, it does nothing to appease her. “He did this,” she uttered, her voice strong.

“Kyra, he saved me,” Julie offered, stepping in.

“No, he’s a killer,” Kyra said. “And he deserves all he gets.”

Vixen eyes the neighbourhood, they’re attracting all sorts of attention. “This aint a good place for talk—”

“A killer?” Safe says, ignoring Vixen temporarily. “That man was gonna shoot you, if it wasn’t for Needy—”

“I’m not talking about Luthor,” Kyra said.

Needy looks up at his former partner, his eyes squinting from the piercing sun, as blood seeped through his fingers.

She knew that telling the others what she knew wouldn’t help him any, but she was done covering for him. She was done protecting him.

“He killed Milton,” she says finally, spitting the words.

“What?” Safe snaps his head back.

“Yeah,” Kyra says. “And god only knows who else.”

“No, that was Ciar—” Safe began to say, looking to Vixen, who at one time would have confirmed the story. Only now, her face was as blank as Kyra’s had been.

How could she have forgotten? It was all so clear to her now. Her memories. She'd been there, she'd witnessed it. But somehow... he’d made her forget. Needy had made Vixen forget.

“No,” Needy finally says, his voice croaky. “She’s right. It was me.”

Safe shoots him a look and staggers back.

“I can explain," Needy muttered. "But Vixen’s right we have no time. We have to move.”

For Vixen, hearing him say her name, after realising what he’d done to her — manipulating her memories, somehow — it made her want to pull the trigger on him herself. Any other time she knew it wouldn’t have done any good, but now? He was already bleeding. A few extra bullets could finish the job.

“No,” Safe says. “You need to explain it here, now!”

“I was tricked,” Needy manages.

“Sounds like we all were,” Vixen says bitingly.

“I’ve got answers,” Needy says.

“Oh yeah?” Safe says. “Or maybe Kyra’s right, maybe we leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t do that cap’n,” Needy splutters.

“No?” Safe crouches down and talks at him now, confidant that the former companion is powerless to do anything in his state. “Why not? You kill one of my crew... you have us looking in the wrong direction... What else haven’t you told us?”

“I can explain everything,” Needy answers. “And I will, I swear to you. Both of you. But if we don’t all leave here now, together, then they win.”

“Who?” Safe pushes.

“He’s full of —” Kyra starts

“The Norsemen,” Needy answers, silencing the others. “They want all of us dead.”

Safe looks at Kyra then back at Needy. It wasn’t an answer, it was a tease. But Vixen was right, they couldn’t stick around there, and Needy knew it. It would only be a matter of time before the place was crawling with feds.

Safe stands and mutters softly into Kyra’s ear. “I’ve no idea whats going on but we can’t be here. So make a choice. Can we trust him?”

“No.” Kyra answers back without hesitation.

“That’s what I thought.” Safe says before he reaches down and snatches Needy’s used gun from the ground. Handing it to Vixen, he tells her to “keep your eyes open.”

Then after letting out a loud sigh he shakes his head in defeat and reaches down to help pull Needy up.

“What are you doing?” Kyra calls out.

“What do you think?” Safe answers. “I’m getting us out of here.”

“I told you he couldn’t be—”

“I say what goes.” Safe says, albeit with some reluctance. “We came here for you, but we came looking for answers too. And right now we’re missing one of our own and we need all the help we can get.”

Needy strained in pain as he pressed down on his neck, desperate to stop the flow of blood.

“Vixen, lead him to the ship,” Safe barked whilst Vixen followed the order without hesitation, digging her gun into Needy’s back with pleasure as she led him towards the back streets.

“What are you doing?” Kyra said.

“Listen. We need to go, you and me,” Safe said. Then eyeing Julie, he put the same offer to her.

“No,” Kyra said, reaching for and squeezing Julie’s hand tight. “We ain’t going with you, not if you’re taking him.”

“What happened to you? To him?” Safe said.

“I told you!” she answered. “He’s a killer. You can’t trust him.”

“And I heard you,” he answered. “But what if he is telling the truth? What if things have changed? He’s bleeding. Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw that.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Kyra told him.

“Maybe, but I can’t risk leaving him behind, not now.”

“Well in that case you’re gonna have to leave me behind instead,” Kyra answered him. “I can’t—”

“We can’t,” Julie interrupted her. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe, if they got to him—” Julie said, looking across to Luthor’s body.

Following her gaze, Kyra understood what she was getting at. But it didn’t change anything. "And you think it’s smart to go with him?” Kyra put to her.

“I don’t think its smart to go with them. They’re the reason why. Why my father—” Julie stopped herself. She felt Safe's eyes staring at her. “But right now, where else is there to go? You feel safe here? You think the feds will look out for us? Even now?”

Kyra looked around her. Luthor’s body, smoke from the downed aircraft rising in the distance. And then she pictured what the scene would be like in a hour or two. The amount of feds that would be crawling around, the questions they’d have for the two of them… There was no way they’d talk themselves out of this one. They might be able to make a run for it, her and Julie. But Kyra’s falsified papers would only get her so far.

“We’ll secure him,” Safe offered. “Lock him up. If that’s what it takes. At least until we know where we stand. But Kyra, please, we need to get off this rock”

Kyra rolled her eyes closed. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to consider it. She’d once made a promise to herself that she’d never make the same mistake twice. She wouldn’t follow Needy on another ship, not when she knew her gut told her that nothing had changed, that he was still the same person that had lied to her, that had killed his friend. But where else was there to go? Luthor’s body laid there now as a reminder of the life she’d tried to lead, a life away from her. She’d tried to start again and she’d failed. There was only one other option left for her now.




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Thursday, August 18, 2011 6:13 AM

CLAYTONPAYNE


Clayton Payne jogged towards the library with a limp, a dead arm and a stinging brow. The sun slowly cooked his skin. Wind blew dust into his eyes

He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own breaths. The sounds from the street were nothing more than a muffled rumble. His jog became a trot and he felt a stitch in his side. Still the voice in his head told him to ignore it, to push on, keep moving

The rooftop of the library was a large dome, and the spiral at its centre could be seen from blocks away. In truth, the library covered five blocks in total, adjoining buildings linked by walkways and basement corridors. The underground could provide shelter for one in need, one such as Kyra, but Clayton couldn’t imagine that she could ever gain access, not in such an emergency. As far as he knew, she didn’t know the area – and neither did he really – but he just hoped she was able to find somewhere to hide, someway to escape from Simon Jupe. Although he knew, deep down, the odds were stacked against her. If the man had wanted her dead, then in all likelihood…

Clayton stopped as he spied a crowd grouped together at the end of one of the streets. Although he couldn’t make it out, he could see them talking to each other, some even trying to use their phones.

Picking up the pace, he made his way down the side street, unbuckling his firearm and pushed his way through the crowd, waving his badge.

There, in the clearing, a body.

As he approached it, he caught sight of the crowd dispersing once more, as Kilgare and two of the other agents stepped out into the light.

Simon Jupe, the man that had been deceiving so many people for so long, lied still in the ground, his eyes blank with despair.

“Gorrammit,” Clayton said, biting his fist and scanning the streets.

People lingered, looking at the agent and his comrades and watched them with interest. What would their next move be? Tell them to move on? Leave them in favour of hunting down the ones responsible?

Clayton himself didn’t know. But his gut told him leaving here would do him no good. She was gone, again. She might have already been on a mule, hurtling across the land to the other side of this rock. Or even worse, maybe she was already in the sky. Any other time and they might have been able to keep a lid on it, to ground-lock every ship, but not now, not this day. Something told him that she was gone from his life altogether, and all he had left was…

“Sir, we got something here!” a voice called from behind, so clear that even Clayton could understand it.

Clayton turned around and saw Kilgare standing over Jupe whilst the other two agents were seeing to him.

“He’s gone,” Clayton said, accidentally kicking a discarded phone by his feet.

“No, we got a feint pulse,” one of the agents said. “He’s not gone yet.”

Clayton rushed over to him whilst Kilgare, spotting the phone on the ground, reached over and picked it up.

“Then you keep him alive,” Clayton ordered. “Best you can. We need to know what he knows.”

“We’ll do our best, but we can only do so much,” the other agent answered. “We could do with a doc here.”

Kilgare examined the phone, turned it over. The screen was smashed and the body broken – it could have been a bullet, it might have just been from dropping it, either way the result was the same.

“Sir,” Kilgare said, although Clayton was ignorant to his call. “I think we got something here.”

The screen flickered on and off, but the words that kept appearing and then fading again were clear enough to read.

PROGRAM FAILURE.

As Kilgare looked around he could see the crowds were talking, and more importantly talking on their phones. As he pulled out his own commicator, he sighed with relief as he saw the signal was back up and running.

“Help might not be far away,” Kilgare said loudly and promptly phoned in for medical assistance.

As Clayton stood up, allowing the agents to do what they could to help the man, he looked around him. There was no catching her now. She was gone. He just hoped she was safe. As soon as the others got there he would have them search the area… but they wouldn’t find anything. He himself would have to answer to his superiors, he’d lost their only lead. He’d promised to lead them to the others but he’d failed. They could have his head for this. But maybe he did still have something to offer. Someone. Clayton stared at the man’s body once more. The agents worked tirelessly on him whilst Kilgare radioed in their position. Simon Jupe, Luthor Mcnab, whatever he wanted to call himself, he was Clayton’s way out. If they could keep him alive, then maybe Clayton himself could save his own skin.




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