| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Dead Bad Guy |
| Date: | Sat, 2 Nov 1996 08:40:33 +0000 |
>>>>>[That Tank person who was coming with me turned out to be a bad
guy, I think. I would have asked him but I sort of killed him a little.
He _was_ trying to kill me, though.
+++++begin video
The shot seems to be from a POV about four feet off the ground and
bouncing around as the owner (wearer?) fidgets. An arm comes into view,
looking at a watch, and you figure from the angles that the camera must
be worn about chest height.
"Come on, Tank, this is _boring_." mutters a female voice. Stephanie
appears to be waiting in the empty lobby of a middle-budget hotel.
A voice behind her says "Steffie?" and she turns, revealing a tallish
human with short-cropped hair wearing a very new-looking synthleather
jacket.
"You took your bloody time!" she says tartly.
"Sorry." He doesn't look apologetic. "Can you remember where we're
going?"
"Of course I can. Why?"
"And was there a password?" His eyes are a little too intent for
comfort.
"Why are you so curious, Mr I-Came-From-Nowhere-Really-Wanting-To-Go-
Into-Chicago-And-Kill-Bugs?" Stephanie glares at "Tank".
He looks distant and thoughtful for several minutes, then says "Roger
that." to nobody in particular, and his hand lashes out at Stephanie.
She ducks under it and backpedals rapidly, and as "Tank" reaches into
his jacket you see her hand come up holding a large, scoped pistol: The
man's face has time to register surprise before most of it is blown off.
Fortunately, perhaps, the gigantic muzzleflashes of the pistol hides the
carnage being wrought on his body until Stephanie ceases fire, the audio
track picking up the jingle of empty cases rolling on the floor.
"So THERE!" she says disdainfully, and you see her changing the magazine
in the pistol - a heavily customised Matchmaster .45 - before she leans
over to look at the dead man, who has four thumb-size holes grouped
tightly over his heart, a fifth in his forehead and a sixth in the edge
of his left eye.
She holsters the Matchmaster and quickly rummages the body, extracting
the Guardian machine pistol he'd been halfway through drawing, then
adding the two spare magazines - black-tipped APDS ammo, you notice -
his credstick and a few other items.
After that, she takes a plastic bag out of one pocket, and draws a
murderously efficient-looking combat knife, and neatly chops off the
dead man's right index finger. You notice it's white with frost when she
drops it into the bag and puts it back in her pocket, before she picks
up an ominously large and heavy holdall and leaves.
As she goes out of the front door, she passes two police officers
entering at a run. They ignore her completely, even though one had to
step aside to let her pass.
++++end trideo
He had lots of cyberware and maybe a headware radio and his ID was all
really boring. It didn't say "Aztlan Death Squad" or "Insect Commando
Trooper" or anything. So I kept it in case anyone knows how to do things
like find out who he really was. And I took the finger so you can do DNA
fingerprinting, because don't you need a whole finger for that? Is one
finger enough? And the cops didn't see me, and the camera in the lobby
was broken already, so I think I got away with it.
But he wasn't very nice and he was always asking questions about all of
you and I never knew the answers to any of them except when we were
going to meet up. And because he was being nosy I didn't tell him when
and where because I wanted him to ask nicely, which he _never_ did. And
I didn't like him very much and he smelled, anyway, so I'm not even a
little bit sorry I shot him. Except if I'd had more time we could have
asked him lots of questions and cut bits off him every time he told
fibs. So I am sort of sorry I shot him if you look at it like that.
Anyway nobody's following me and the police haven't mentioned it and
it's not in the news or anything. Which is probably a Really Bad Thing,
actually.]<<<<<
-- Stephanie <23:14:32/11-01-57>
