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+--- Thread: Field Reports: Family planning. (/showthread.php?tid=5118)
Field Reports: Family planning. - firvulag - 02-11-2009
Grand Army of the Republic of Yujutha
Field Reports
Family Planning
Jonesy lounged against the wall of the office, paying little attention
to the boss as he haggled with the mask standing in the center of
the room. Four more of the boys were in the room too, bored and
standing off to the side.
It didn't seem to bother the man though, but that, Jonesy knew, was what
masks were like. Didn't think much of mooks like him, thought they were
better than everything. Especially now that Recluse had started going
on about this Destined One crap. The Spider could go on about fate and
destiny all he wanted, the Family'd been around long before him,
and they'd be around long after both he and Statesman had killed each other.
The mask grunted something and shifted his stance. Coming out of an
'at ease' and stepping into 'attention' Jonesy supposed. He gave a short
sort of bow and spoke in his strange accent. "We agreed are. Meeting
your men at the docks we will, two hours in." And before any of the boys
could move he faded into the shadows of the dim room, a sudden gust of wind
threatening to spill the piles of papers on the boss's desk.
Jonesy pushed himself up off the wall and sneered at the spot where the man
had stood. "We don't need him," he said, "Us an' Angelo's guys, we could
take care of this on our own."
The boss shrugged. "Yeah, well the Mooks is supposed to have some help o'
there own. Let the masks fight each other. It don't matter, long as
that shipment doesn't get delivered. With out it, the Mooks is going to be
hurting. That's all that matters," the boss said.
He pointed at the door. "Get going and find Angelo. I don't want you to
be late when those Grand Army punks show up. Bad enough working with those
snots with out giving 'em a reason to get all uppity."
Jonesy nodded and started for the door, the boys following after him. "Grand
Army," he said, "what a load of crap. Fancy name for someone without any
history. O' course, they ain't gonna have much of a future either. Not
when they find out what Recluse's destiny is."
That was good for a laugh as they made their way out to the alley behind
the building.
---
An hour later a Mook was standing on the deck of a cargo ship at anchor just
off of Port Oakes watching the sun set behind Mt. Diable. As he turned from
the rail a hand clamped over his mouth and he felt a sudden burning pain in
his gut. The last thing is fading vision saw was the cold water coming to
meet him.
On the deck of the ship Japheth the Silent eased back into the shadows. He
stalked along the deck, searching for any sentries he might have missed.
There'd only been five of them, and sloppy ones at that. His instincts
shouted at him that there had to be more. The five hadn't even been in sight
of each other, and in a place like these Isles that was just suicide, even for
an organization as powerful as the Mooks.
After completing a full circuit of the deck he sighed in disgust. It had
been just those five. Japheth returned to the ship's main superstructure and
slipped up next to one of the hatches.
The cargo ships used by this world weren't that different from those in his
home, so he wasn't surprised when he eased it open and saw a short passage
leading to a flight of stairs. There were cabins on either side of the
passage, and from the one on the left came light and the sound of
voices.
Japheth slipped in through the barely open hatch and pulled it gently shut
behind him. A quick glance through the well lit door showed three more Mooks
sitting around a table, playing cards and laughing. The door on the right
was for a head. Japheth smiled briefly at his luck and turned back to the
card game.
Only one of the mooks managed to make it out of his chair when the shadowy
figure burst through the hatch. He had just begun to call out in alarm when a
heavily booted foot caught him just below the diaphragm, driving the wind out
of his lungs. The other two never noticed what was happening. The first died
as a powerful fist smashed into the base of his skull. The second's throat was
torn out by razor sharp claws, and a kick was delivered to the rising
third. He staggered back, sagging against the bulkhead and then the claws were
on him.
It took only a minute to drag the bodies across the passage and into the head.
A minute more served to clean up the worst of the blood, enough that it
probably wouldn't be noticed before morning. Then Japheth headed deeper into
the ship, following the stairs down to the hold.
---
According to the manifest he'd snagged from the purser's office the last set
of crates that held the shipment were in the ship's forward hold. So Japheth
was lurking in the access corridor outside the hatch, waiting for the men he
could hear talking to move away from the door.
So far he'd cleared the rear holds and engine room, confirming that the
manifest was accurate, and killing a fair number of Mooks. He hadn't run
across any of the ship's crew, so he guessed they were either hiding,
terrified of the Mooks, or dead.
The men on the other side of the hatch finished their conversation and opened
the hatch. Japheth slid further back into the shadows as the two of them
stepped through. The second man tugged on the hatch to close it and started
moving off as it swung shut.
The clang of the hatch closing covered the sound of the Mook's body hitting
the deck as Japheth's claws passed through his throat. The other Mook started
to turn, puzzled by the shadows cast on the bulkhead ahead of him. Japheth's
charge lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the wall. A strong hand
clamped over the man's mouth and he screamed into it as three sharp blades
pinned his right arm to the wall, his pistol falling from suddenly nerveless
fingers.
"Very quiet be, my friend," Japheth whispered. "Questions answer and survive
you will."
The frightened Mook nodded as best he could.
"The extra help is in the hold, da?"
This got another nod.
Japheth yanked the man away from the wall, stepping around him as he fell
forward. The mook made a choked sound as strong arms wrapped around his
head and neck. A moment later he sagged to the deck and Japheth carefully
checked his pulse. Nodding in satisfaction he hauled the man onto his shoulder
and carried him into the shadows between two cargo containers. The corpse of
the man's companion was hauled into another corner, and the bare light bulb
hanging above the scene of the fight shattered as a small stinging cantrip
hit it, hiding the blood stains in grey darkness.
---
A very board young woman was pacing up and down in front of a piled of crates
at the very end of the hold. She wore a flak jacket over dark tights and was
complaining to the Mooks standing around her.
"This is the worst assignment you lot have ever had for me. At least with the
others I was doing something instead of standing around in rusting boat
waiting for nothing to happen," she was saying.
A new voice suddenly spoke, interrupting whatever reply the Mooks might have
made. "Ah, and now something happens. I am always happy to help Lady."
A Mook carrying a sub-machine gun staggered as a pair of long, metalic claws
burst from his chest. He stared at them in confusion for a second before they
were ripped out and he fell messily to the floor. Standing behind the fallen
Mook, in a relaxed fighting stance, was a tall man in camouflaged armour. He
was smirking behind his short beard, though his dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
The woman laughed, a huge grin appearing on her face. "Oh thank you. Try not
to die too quickly. I want to have some FUN!"
The last was shrieked, and Japheth threw himself to the side as a cone of
ultra high frequency sound blasted through the space where he'd been standing
and shattered the crates behind him into kindling. Allowing his momentum to
carry him, Japheth rolled to his feet in the midst of the startled Mooks. He
lashed out with his claws, forcing them back.
Then he spun to the side, barely avoiding another shriek from the woman. His
fields flared brightly for a moment as the edge of the shriek dissipated
against them. The Mooks weren't so lucky. Two of them went to their knees,
clutching their ears in pain, while a third took the brunt of the blast in the
head and fell back, blood pouring from the ruins of his face.
Japheth dodged around a man who was desperately trying to bring his pistol to
bear, and ran towards the woman. He almost made it to her when she began to
sing. This time it wasn't a concentrated blast, he could feel the sound of it
in his bones, even through the flaring energy shields that surrounded him. It
staggered him, and instead of landing a solid blow with his claws he stumbled
into her, knocking them both over.
They both rolled quickly to their feet and stepped back to gain room. The
woman smirked at him, drawing in a breath for another song. Japheth
concentrated and pulled on the strength of his fields. Just as the woman was
opening her mouth there was a flash of light and brain scrambling energy and
Japheth vanished from sight.
Blinking her eyes free of the spots that danced in front of them the woman
called out orders. "He's still here somewhere, spread out and find him!"
The surviving handful of Mooks fanned out through the hold, while the woman
walked back to the crates she was supposed to be protecting. "Huh, how
boring, running away like that," she muttered.
She noticed the shimmering distortion in the air a moment before a powerful
kick slammed into her stomach, driving the wind from her lungs. Staggering
back she tried to draw in a breath. In front of her Japheth faded back into
view.
"Who is running?" he asked, and punched her solidly in the head.
She still managed to get enough air to scream again, but her attack was
side stepped with ease. Japheth's claws slashed her thigh open, and he
stepped inside her guard when she took a wild swing at him. He used their
combined momentum to punch his claws through her armour and into her stomach.
The medicom system in the Rogue Isles wasn't quite as well developed as that
in Paragon city, but it worked. The woman faded amid bubbling curses leaving
only a few smears on the deck.
Spread out through the hold, hunting him in twos and threes, the rest of the
Mooks fell quickly beneath Japheth's claws. This left him with the
comparatively small problem of hauling four large, heavy crates out of the bowls
of the ship.
---
"Where is he. Da punk had better not 'a chickened out."
There was a ghost of a chuckle and Jonesy spun around. The mask was
sitting on a crate next to the edge of the dock.
"Youse was supposed ta be here twenty minutes ago," Jonesy accused.
The mask stood and bowed briefly to him. "Da, was. Took longer to get the
shipment out of hold than thought," he said.
For a moment Jonesy stood there blinking. Then his mind finally figured out
what the man had said. "Youse did it already?"
"Da. Was not a problem. They were not, how you say, on the dime."
"Whad about da help dey had?" Jonesy was struggling to keep up.
The mask was still smirking at him from behind his short beard. "Now she was
a problem, but inexperienced, da? Should have kept men together, force me to
come to shipment. Escaped though, was not able to disable medicom."
Stepping away from the crate the mask popped the side open. Inside Jonesy
could barely see a large plastic bag. The mask's hands sprouted claws and
bag was sliced open. The contents, a pale powder in the dim light, poured out
and into the water below.
"Hey!" Jonesy cried, "whad ya do dat for?"
"Was paid to destroy the shipment, not recover. Now have witnesses, know job is
done, da?" Japheth bowed again, hiding his grin as he did so.
When he straightened he skecthed a salute and pulled on the energy fields his
gift surrounded him with. The Family grunts watched as he faded from their
sight, the air and dock appearing to warp around him.
fin