Unnamed TAYle: Part 4
February 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
2:05 pm. Ask Me Stuff Square.
The roar in his ears grew louder. The prick of the blade against his throat seemed harsher than any pain he’d ever felt before. Shady closed his eyes, and thought of his family. He knew they’d be supported, it was all in the contract. Still, he’d loved to have had a proper chance to say goodbye. A wave of his hand, a firm request that his son play some games, like a good little boy. And that would be the last that his family ever heard of him. How he died would be a secret too. That was part of the contract as well.
The roar peaked. And he felt the blade, tearing through the neck of his skin, as it flew through the air.
“What?” cried Shady, as he opened his eyes, to find his four assailants crumpled on the ground. Their lifeless bodies crippled by a pair of motorbikes.
“Sorry about your neck, friend,” one of the riders called, his voice like the moonlight reflecting off the sea on a cool summer night, “it should be right though, it looks superficial.”
“Why did- who are?” Shady sputtered out, bewildered by their appearance.
“Oh, don’t you worry about us, we’re here to he-” Said the rider, cut off as he saw some people leave the vault. Revving his bike up, he and the other rider charged towards them, as they fled around the building, and into some forgotten side street. Shady ran after them, reaching the alley in time to watch the intruders climb over a building, briefcases, filled with lord knows what clasped in their hands.
“Shit,” said Shady. “We’ve got no chance now. Someone else’s problem, I guess. Which reminds me, who are you, exactly?”
“Ahh, right, I’m F4ction,” said the first rider,”and this is-”
“Jo.” Finished the second. His voice like a thousand nightingales, singing in unison. “We came here to join you, and, we figured you could use a hand.”
“Unregistered people joining in a fight? This is going to require a hell of a lot of paperwork. And I’m going to require a drink.”
5 pm. The South side of the city.
He sat there, watching, waiting. The rain poured down, but it didn’t phase him. He’d sat through worse, and this required perfect timing. They’d been watching for months. Intelligence gathering wasn’t exactly the most thrilling job, and NotoriousR was not known for his patience while sitting around, but he’d designed the software they were using to monitor the underworld, and so his expertise had been required. Out here though, the rhythmic patter of the rain on his skin and hair, he could focus. He knew what was ahead of him, and he knew what he had to do. It was a retrieval mission. He had to get inside the building, and “convince” someone to come out. Not just anyone though. This was one of the biggest trolls they’d ever fought. He held power over hundreds of local commenters, and lord knows how many in other areas. He was to be taken to HQ for re-evaluation.
A bolt of lightning. He counts to six, and he’s in the yard. Clutching the compound wall, hiding in the shadow of the main building. Another bolt, he counts to five. Two cracks, like thunder, and he’s inside. Climbing the stairwell, Another flash from above, 2 seconds, and he’s in the room. At the bottom of the building. No external input. The only entrance, a single door, bolted from the inside, and pressure sealed. You could detonate a nuke out there, and this room would remain.
“What the fuck? How the hell did you get in here?” A man to match the language, hulking and beastly, six and a half feet tall, covered in hair, and drowning in his own fat.
“Magic,” replied NotoriousR, the sardonic lilt biting through the air, “now quiet a moment, I have to open this door.” He keyed in a code, pressed his thumb against a pad, and had a retinal scan. The door opened with a hiss.
“How did you open that? How the fuck did you get through my security?”
“I told you, magic. Now, you need to come with me.” NotoriousR raised a gun. Pointed it towards the man, and motioned out the door. While climbing the stairs, the boss in front of him, a flash of lightning overhead, blindingly bright. NotoriousR laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, and a second later, accompanied by a massive crack, they were in the middle of the compound yard.
“Oh. I did not mean to take us here.” Suddenly, the armed men covering the walls turned, seeing their boss there, a gun pointed at him, they knew what to do. The boss fell to the ground, hands over his head, as his goons opened fire. Thankful for their terrible training, NotoriousR ducked behind a concrete embankment. Hearing the pounding on the bullets, matching the rain. He fired off a few shots, blind. None hit, but he expected that. He’d never been good with such inelegant tools. Sadly this was all he had for the job. The gunfire stopped. A pause above, as they moved around the walls. Coming down, ready to flank him, he had seconds before he was surrounded. So he did the only thing he could. He jumped over the concrete, turned to Swiss Cheese by the bullets, and threw himself towards the boss. His finger feels the firm rubber, the sole of a shoe. With a massive crack, a bolt of lightning smashes the ground, tearing through the middle of the compound.
“Well, that was close,” gasps NotoriousR, gasping for breath through fits of laughter. He sees a car drive up. Black on black. With shades of black. Its dark tinted windows hiding the interior. He gives a wave, and asks for a hand to pull the crying boss into the back.
“You have any problems?” Asked the driver.
“If I did, I’d expect you to know, Aidan.”
2 am. The following day.
There were seconds left, the clock, counting down time. There was a faint beeping as his time grew short.
He thought about his wife, his life. Everything he’d had. It had been good. A good run.
With a boom, Mr. Explody, exploded.