| From: | Oswald was framed <krobar@********.CLARK.NET> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | The Needle... |
| Date: | Thu, 10 Feb 1994 23:22:27 -0500 |
encountered. Here's how I remembered it --
I fragging hate elevators, I always have. This being the Needle and
all, the ride was a particularly long one, since we didn't have the
luxury of a chartered chopper. The optical chip that one of Zzzyxx's
(Sledge keeps calling him Snore, it's a heap easier to say) decker pals
cracked for us said that our first objective would be to kidnap a fairly
high level Gaeatronics suit. No dice on his house, too secure for even
us, but he does like eating at the Needle. Easier, right ? Sort of, but
harder in some ways. For starters, this dude wouldn't be sitting at home
pouring over some documents, he'd be out in the open and among some of
Seattle's finest. He knew what we were going to do, but had been told to
act otherwise by whoever was running the show. Great.
The elevator was rapidly approaching the top, so we checked our gear
out. We all wore some of that new Slim-Line armor that looked just like
tuxedos, and even Sledge looked mildly sociable. No weapons heavier than
large pistols, and the ones we had were loaded with Gel rounds so as not
to "plant" anybody we didn't have to. The other fellas, Reaper, D-Man,
and Snore cross-checked each other, and Reaper gave a nod to tell me that
they were ready.
The elevator dings, first out is Sledge. The Troll stepped out and
you could almost hear the intake of breath from the diners. Most had
never even seen a Troll, much less one his size, and the dreds didn't
help either. Reaper followed, with his gold cybereyes glinting, and
calmly looked around as if he owned the place. Zzzyxx decided it was his
turn and stepped out, oozing the charm and good looks we Elves are
blessed with. D-Man was next, and his beautiful lionskin cape dazzled more
than a few. I was last, turning the Elf charm on high and giving a few
attractive ladies a look or two.
Boy, did we mess up going straight there, we were all out of our
element. No sooner had we stepped off of the elevator than a snobby
human "sicced" us.
"Pardon me sirs, do you have a reservation ?" he asked. Sledge
walks up to the guy and says "Nope, but we're hungry." Reaper and
Zzzyxxx, screw it, Snore had fanned out and blocked the kitchen off from
the Maitre'd. D-Man was slumped in the big chair near the telephone, and
was probably checking the place over in Astral. This dude offers us a
table with slightly veiled insults and oily smiles when I bribed him
(Future point y'all, all big and fancy resturants have one table open at
all times, and they call it "the bribe table", and they see which
employee can get the most money to give it someone who walks in. I swear
they do it just to piss me off. Our table was very close to our Mr.
Johnson's, and he had barely taken notice of us, choosing to resume his
dinner. Perfect.
After we had finished our meal and Sledge had everything edible
within arms reach, Johnson got up. Time to move. Most of the crew had
spotted the movement about the same time I did, so we were on our feet
within a few seconds of each other. Johnson was heading out fast, and
cathing on to us. Frag.
"Now! Now! Now!" Reaper cried and we went for Johnson. D-Man and
Sledge spun to face the diners, and Snore leapt towards the kitchen.
That's when Ares hit the fan. One of the other teams in the contest, one
made up of exclusively ex-Ares jerkoffs, stepped from the elevator and
drew their weapons. "Gun !" cried someone trying to finish their dinner,
and clattering tables could be heard as guests dived for cover. Reaper
grabbed Johnson and headed for the door. Sledge spun, and saw the Ares
whackos standing there. He didn't like that, so he threw the Maitre'd at
them. Boy, the look on their faces was incredible.
"Plan Two" I cried, and we all headed for the kitchen. A wave of
heat hit me from the stove, and chefs scattered. Sledge came through the
door carrying Johnson by his belt like a sack of potatoes, and we headed
for the roof. Ten, maybe twelve steps later we burst out into the night,
and skidded to a halt. From under that lion of his, D-Man pulled out a
slim sports parachute like the ones we were wearing and tossed it to
Johnson. "Put that on", he says, "or Sledge will throw you off."
I've
never seen a man put a parachute on that fast. The tux tops were
discarded to clear the chutes, and we started running towards the edge.
Reaper and Snore jumped at about the same time, and D-Man went next. "Ya
ready breeder ?" asked Sledge. "Sorta" replies Johnson. Shots rang out
from behind us, and the Ares goons started running towards, pulling the
triggers as fast as their jacked-up reflexes would let them. Sledge
grabbed one side of Johnson's belt, and I the other and we jumped.
Needless to say, no one was hurt on landing, 'cept maybe Johnson's
pride, and it went off easy from there, with him giving us the chip with
our next target. That's about it.
--That do it ? ]<<<<<
Ringo <23:23:15/2-10-55>
>>>>>[ Yeah boss, all except that part about Elves oozing good looks;
they just ooze. Period. ]<<<<<
--Sledge <23:25:56/2-10-55>
