| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Hostile Magic |
| Date: | Tue, 16 Jun 1998 18:48:37 +0100 |
highlights but I figured you'd want the whole thing.
+++++begin video
A handheld camera, from behind a police line.
A young Ork is holding a machine pistol, the gun jammed against a
terrified middle-aged man's head. He's standing in the street, in a
circle of police and bank security. "JUST GET ME THE MONEY!" he roars.
"YOU GOT ONE MINUTE!"
"Look, we can't just-"
"Can't?" the Ork shouts, and shifts the gun to shoot his hostage in the
foot. The man screams and would fall if he wasn't being held. "No such
word as fragging _can't_! You get those sticks or we see how many pieces
I can shoot off this guy before he dies! Forty seconds!"
"Okay! Okay!" the police negotiator agrees, hands held out, submissive
agreement. "You'll get the money! Just don't hurt anyone else. Nobody
has to get hurt."
"Get me that cash or _plenty_ of people are going to get hurt!" the Ork
yells, grinding the Ceska's muzzle against his hostage's neck. "You
think his _head_ would come off if I pull the trigger now? Twenty
seconds!"
A woman in a suit runs from the bank, holding a cloth bag. "Here. Twenty
sticks, fifty thousand certified each, just like you asked."
"Put it down! There by the drain!" the Ork replies, and the woman
complies. "Now open the cover! Now drop it into the drain!"
As the banker, puzzled - does so, several things happen. The Ork seems
to try to throw the pistol away, before bringing it back towards his
hostage, who takes this opportunity to flee, limping three or four paces
rapidly: one of the policemen hauls him behind herself, shielding him
and raising her own shotgun.
The Ork boy brings the pistol around towards his own head, shaking with
some inner conflict, before one hand flies up to drop the magazine out
of the weapon. As if in frustration, he hits himself three times hard in
the face with the unloaded machine pistol, blood flowing from his broken
nose, before falling semi-conscious.
With a muffled _whump_, choking white smoke billows out of the drain and
the culverts.
The police close in.
+++++end video
The boy was under a mind control spell the whole time. The magician who
cast it was on a clock, knew the Dips' arrival time, seemingly to the
second. According to one of the cops, they got a spell signature, it
matches the guys with the taste for rape. Whoever it was got away clean,
with a million nuyen in certified credit.
The sewer was a smart move. The cops were thinking, okay, he's got a bag
and a wounded hostage and a gun, we can wait for him to slip while he
juggles them. They didn't have _time_ to do much else, like think about
accomplices.
And, yeah, I decided not to run to Detroit just yet.]<<<<<
-- Bungle <18:48:43/06-16-59>
