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Showing posts with label gonna go have a cig now. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gonna go have a cig now. Show all posts

Friday, 22 July 2011

-Spencer- Team, I love weddings

Because everyone likes suddenly getting thrust into doing a job when you're supposed to be having fun-

Wait, am I getting this wrong?

August and I sobered up and were up and ready for the ceremony. It was gorgeous; even I could see that and I'm an uncultured schmuck.
But I'm also not an idiot. When the busboy with the ridiculously fake German accent turned up, I can't say I was very surprised to see it wasn't simply an exchange student trying to earn some cash.

(Well, you idiot, what did you expect? You barely ever stop moving and you decide to go to a wedding? Stupid!)

So August and I slip in our earpieces and get on it. Doors were locked, I pinned the suspicious character, and I figured everything would go alright from there.


I don't need to summarize what's already there. Read what they said. Go on, I'll wait. Point being, I stabbed a Proxy's eyes out with a FORK and laughed while I was doing so.
... According to August, at least. I'm not sure if he's trying to get back at me for last night or not, but I can't remember doing that.

Well fuck.

Naturally, though, we didn't have time to worry about looking fancy once we got rid of 'em. There was work to be done.

Because, children, what you don't realize is that it's REALLY FUCKING HARD to keep all your conquests under wraps and away from media attention. Keeping all you Runners out of jail isn't easy, but it's something I do.

So I have about half an hour to draw attention away from the hotel massacre.

This is pretty bad. It's even worse when the fucker won't connect me to the chief. It takes three minutes to get to the right person, but boy, is it worth is.

You should've heard him gasp when he heard my voice. It's nice to have power around here. And then August suggested that a small scale explosion would probably work as a distraction.

Dear god, remind me to give that kid a hefty bonus.

Sure, he's tiny and frail, but watching a guy in a dress assemble a miniature pipebomb is something you REALLY need to see to believe.

There was SLIGHT property damage; a vacant tiny house had it's foundation cracked but the one next to it had nothing but a good jolt. Otherwise, the explosion was magnified using tricks to make it sound worse than it actually was. Dry ice makes great fake smoke, and enough well placed megaphones can make a mouse deafening.
Of course, it was a hit. The media jumped on it faster than a starving panther. Mission accomplished.

I dropped off a package, too. So it worked out in the end.

August... Team, I only ask this; MAKE SURE HE RESTS. I need to go back into The Wing to sort shit out. But he's got a cracked rib that he's been walking on.
(using The Path really didn't help things, but hey)

But otherwise?

It was fun.


(Outside from the team, I really didn't have friends. Is it right to say that I feel that I do now?)

Tuesday, 12 July 2011

-Amanda- Strange What You Remember

So today's August's birthday. Eighteen. Fuck, he shouldn't be here. None of them should be here. They should be off having fucking normal lives with normal problems.

Instead, they get this. This fucking bullshit with Him, stuck cooped up with those of us cold-hearted and sneaky enough to last as long as we have in this goddamn housing counting down to the fucking inevitable. They're just fucking kids for christ's sake.

I remember when I turned eighteen. Been running for nearly two fucking years. I spent my eighteenth birthday huddled on a park bench in some city I don't even remember the name of. Already a chain smoker, already a caffeine addict of the highest order, already drinking enough to make me look like Spencer's goddamn apprentice. Thank fucking god only two of those stuck.

It was cold, the bad kind of cold. Could barely breathe and what I could breathe cut my throat up like fucking glass. My last cig trembled between my fingers and I just couldn't stop shaking. Some people actually stopped to ask if I was alright. I fucking wasn't, but what could I say? 'Some tall guy in a suit with tentacles want to kill me'? Hell no. I wasn't risking their fucking lives with that bullshit. Bad enough they even came up to me. That's enough sometimes

Some lady with the kindest fucking eyes and red hair pressed a five into my hand. She couldn't have known it was my birthday but it was the nicest present I could've gotten.

So, August? Enjoy your fucking birthday. We have too few anyway.