Jet does have that certain "Dead or alive, you're coming with me" effect.And by this stage, after losing a few friends at SerenityCon, is slowly beginning to hate the enemy. (Which is something I'm looking at in another ongoing thing I mentioned elsewhere, because it seems interesting).
Also been starting to add a little more from the perspective of our bad guys.... who they are and what they're actually planning. Because robbing banks with a giant tiger is a bit silly. So was the 'sudden' revelation that there have been 25 missing persons nobody thought to mention before now, so add a corrupt copper.
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Also been starting to add a little more from the perspective of our bad guys.... who they are and what they're actually planning. Because robbing banks with a giant tiger is a bit silly. So was the 'sudden' revelation that there have been 25 missing persons nobody thought to mention before now, so add a corrupt copper.
Quote:Derek Laramie was sweating in his polyester suit. Behind him, the dark shape of the ‘Cat’ loomed ominously, fangs glinting in the evening sun.________________________________
He was sweating.
And he was waiting.
A dark Maserati Sedan crept up the gravel trackway, crunching stones beneath it’s tires. It crawled to a halt opposite him, waiting for a few tension-building moments before the whirring engine shut down.
The driver’s door opened first... a bald man in a dark pinstripe suit stepping out. The chauffeur glanced around, scanning the trees, then the rest of the yard, then Derek himself. A standard precaution before the passenger’s door was opened with a quick button-push.
For a brief moment, Derek could see how thick the bulletproof glass was. It was so heavy, it needed hydraulics to move.
“It’s clear Mister Gordini,” the chauffeur said, his voice kept low.
Mister Gordini... Derek never learned his first name... stepped out. He was wearing a beautifully tailored Caraceni suit. He was wearing a look of fury that’d make the tide turn back and run in fear.
“Well. Mister Gordini,” Derek offered his hand....
Gordini looked at him like he’d stabbed his mother, and was offering him the still-bloodied knife.
“Son, when you realise how badly you fucked up, you’re not even going to say you’re sorry. When I turn around and you’re still able to piss standing up, you aren’t even going to thank me, do you understand?”
Feeling a brick dropping in his pants, Derek could only nod gormlessly.
“You aren’t even allowed to fucking nod in my presence. What was your job..... what were your orders, come down from the boss himself? What where your fucking orders numbnuts?”
Uh....
“That’s right. You take the cat and you make sure it works... and make double sure that none of the goddamned feds have any fucking clue it even exists until we spring it on them. Nowhere in there does it say you take it for a joyride through the countryside, and sure as hell I don’t see anywhere where it says to start knocking over some two-bit redneck banks for a thousand bucks... and get caught on some dumb schmuck’s iPhone doing it. Do you have even the slightest idea what we’re trying to accomplish here?”
Er...
“This isn’t about making a quick buck... retards, gun-nuts and jobless hicks rob banks.... This is about turning the unstoppable force of United States public opinion against those shit-eating dogooders up there. What do you suppose would’ve been the reaction when that thing started rampaging through Frankfort... when you got burning buildings on the news and little kiddies and politicians being taken away in bodybags?”
Well...
“They would be right royally pissed off, and do you know who they would be pissed off at? Well it wouldn’t be us. You do understand that the Freaks still need support from down here.... food, ammunition, bodies. You piss the US off, and they cut the Freaks off. Freaks wither and die.”
But....
“Now instead of pissing them off, all you’ve managed to do is annoy them enough to start looking for you. That Governor has already requested help from Freako Central, and you bet the President’s been briefed on this. You’ve come withing a penguins pecker of fucking this up beyond all redemption... and you know what normally happens to dipshits who fuck up as royally as you’ve managed. ” he turned back towards the car. “Sara!”
From inside the car stepped a woman in a flight suit... at least that was Dereks first guess. A split second later, he spotted the tail, followed by the ears which seemed to track each and every sound in the trees above.
Shit... oh shit..
“This is Sara. You’re job is to look after her. Keep her happy, keep her safe, and most importantly keep her away from prying eyes. She’s not your own personal fuck-toy either so don’t be getting ideas. Sara is a special piece of equipment... Sara is specially programmed by Grey himself to be the pilot of the big Cat. Sara is your fucking God. Understand?”
“Hi,” purred the catgirl, edging up beside him
“It’s too late for you getting your own ship after a screw up of this magniture... that ship has sailed... but you might be able to save yourself from coughing up furballs for the rest of your days. Now... tell what the hell have you done down here that isn’t fucking retarded??”
Um...
“Well... we managed to get a detective in our pocket.”
“Wow.... that’s like, notch 1. Maybe they’ll let you remember who you were when you’re bathing yourself with your own tongue....”
This was going to be a long night.
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?