Post by Shadowe on Mar 31, 2009 12:35:06 GMT
"So, this is it, huh? And we're here because of this 'Fetched Allegiance' crew. right?"
As I look around the room, a sense of satisfaction rolls over me. It feels like it's been the work of a lifetime, getting this group together, but I managed it, and they're ready.
The leanest, meanest, grouchiest crew of misanthropes that money can buy, superbly trained, well equipped, and each one briefed in detail on their role in the upcoming mischief.
"They call themselves 'The Fletched Alliance'. I don't exactly understand where that came from, but they have a reputation as misfits and outsiders, with a deep desire to blow stuff up."
Reggie Simmons snorts. That's pretty much his default reaction to anything. He's a good-looking man, wanted in three states for arson, so I can understand why that would appeal to him.
One of the other girls, in full makeup and gear, glares at him - she's Rachael Torres, a short woman with superb agility and resilience, who used to make her living as a cat-burglar. The coincidence still amuses me.
"You're just hoping for trouble, aren't you?"
"Hey, it's better than sitting around here on my ass all day. A guy can get bored of that sort of thing, you know?" He lights a cigarette, which would annoy me, normally, but I'm not going to complain now.
"It's time. I've done my part, and now we start to move on to the end-game." I look around at everyone there, with barely a glance at the chair beside me, draped over with a sheet. The tension is intense, exciting, and I know that they're all as eager as I am.
This is the big one. The last great hit. The one that makes or breaks a crook in this town, and we're ready. It's taken a lot of training, a little remodeling, and a fair amount of pain, but I know that we can win. We can do what it takes to get the job done, and do it right, and when we're finished, we can vanish into nowhere, leaving a trail of evidence that leads the cops and the heroes in only one direction.
Dramatically, I stand up, hands pressed against the rickety tabletop, almost stumbling in the high heels I've spent months learning to walk in, not caring about the tiny micro-mini skirt showing off far too much of my legs, flicking dyed hair out of my eyes.
"Oh, we know, Reggie. But now is the time. We're here, we're ready. We can move forward, and there's not a damned thing that anyone can do about it." I tear the sheet off the chair to my side, and look down at the wild-eyed woman sitting in it, bound, gagged, and doped up on the strongest psi-damping drugs you can buy on the street. I can tell she's terrified - I can feel it - and the confusion and terror is only enhanced - deliciously enhanced - as she looks up at me, at her own face, on her own body, wearing her own clothes.
"As of now, I am Samantha Huntington, leader of the Fletched Alliance, the heroine known as Luminescence. I'm not anyone else, and I've never been anyone else. Sugar."
I hear the scream of the real Sam Huntington in my mind. I love it.
As I look around the room, a sense of satisfaction rolls over me. It feels like it's been the work of a lifetime, getting this group together, but I managed it, and they're ready.
The leanest, meanest, grouchiest crew of misanthropes that money can buy, superbly trained, well equipped, and each one briefed in detail on their role in the upcoming mischief.
"They call themselves 'The Fletched Alliance'. I don't exactly understand where that came from, but they have a reputation as misfits and outsiders, with a deep desire to blow stuff up."
Reggie Simmons snorts. That's pretty much his default reaction to anything. He's a good-looking man, wanted in three states for arson, so I can understand why that would appeal to him.
One of the other girls, in full makeup and gear, glares at him - she's Rachael Torres, a short woman with superb agility and resilience, who used to make her living as a cat-burglar. The coincidence still amuses me.
"You're just hoping for trouble, aren't you?"
"Hey, it's better than sitting around here on my ass all day. A guy can get bored of that sort of thing, you know?" He lights a cigarette, which would annoy me, normally, but I'm not going to complain now.
"It's time. I've done my part, and now we start to move on to the end-game." I look around at everyone there, with barely a glance at the chair beside me, draped over with a sheet. The tension is intense, exciting, and I know that they're all as eager as I am.
This is the big one. The last great hit. The one that makes or breaks a crook in this town, and we're ready. It's taken a lot of training, a little remodeling, and a fair amount of pain, but I know that we can win. We can do what it takes to get the job done, and do it right, and when we're finished, we can vanish into nowhere, leaving a trail of evidence that leads the cops and the heroes in only one direction.
Dramatically, I stand up, hands pressed against the rickety tabletop, almost stumbling in the high heels I've spent months learning to walk in, not caring about the tiny micro-mini skirt showing off far too much of my legs, flicking dyed hair out of my eyes.
"Oh, we know, Reggie. But now is the time. We're here, we're ready. We can move forward, and there's not a damned thing that anyone can do about it." I tear the sheet off the chair to my side, and look down at the wild-eyed woman sitting in it, bound, gagged, and doped up on the strongest psi-damping drugs you can buy on the street. I can tell she's terrified - I can feel it - and the confusion and terror is only enhanced - deliciously enhanced - as she looks up at me, at her own face, on her own body, wearing her own clothes.
"As of now, I am Samantha Huntington, leader of the Fletched Alliance, the heroine known as Luminescence. I'm not anyone else, and I've never been anyone else. Sugar."
I hear the scream of the real Sam Huntington in my mind. I love it.