I evicted the 30-30 from its sheath and returned Sword to its home. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled on one of the harnesses straps to balance it a little better. That done I reached back, grabbed the hilt, screamed "Freya," and swept it forward and down into the counter. It was magic of the special kind. Sword cleaved the wood like it was bone and didn't stop until the end of the arc. God Damn if that didn't feel good. I pulled sword loose, that didn't go as smoothly which was just as well because it gave me time to amp what I was feeling down a bit.
I got Sword free and stepped back, much to my surprise I was panting a bit, not from exertion, rather the need to split some heads open and dump intestines on the ground. I wanted to hear screams of pain and smell their blood, fear, and urine as I sent them to hell.
Freya had stepped back about four paces and was watching me warily.
"I'm good. Give me the background and I'm gone."
She didn't seem convinced but she told me what I had to do. It was pretty simple, at least the way she told it. I listened, did my own calculations, and realized no way in hell, even in my prime, was I going to make it through this alive, let alone unscathed.
What I had was a hostage situation, inside an enemy held town, I was outnumbered significantly, and the feds had a team on the way to kill me if the Apaches didn't. The hostages were Navajo kids and Kat who were being held at the local school. Also being held were their families in a different part of the same building. Along the way were scattered teams who were supposed to kill me before I got to the kids. If that didn't work they would use the kids to flush me out and kill me for the reward and payback.
"Any questions?"
"No. Give me a feed and my legs back and I'm gone.
"Certain death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"
ReplyDeleteenergyecon
Factsphere - "The likelyhood of you dying violently in the next 5 minutes is 87.65%."
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iAUwamHTM4
AAargh.. I get caught up and here's where I'm left. Hanging. Waiting. :-D
ReplyDeleteYou know I love it.
This seems like a local beef (horse?). Why has Freya become interested in the situation? Is this just a starter to get Gardener back up to his prime fighting form?
ReplyDeleteAnon,
ReplyDeleteIt's more then that. All will be revealed.
Remember the "co-worker" who I threatened to shoot when be supposedly borrowed my autographed copy of "No Second Place Winner" from my office?
ReplyDeleteWas in a meeting today and the boss sent him to pick up a report on my desk. When he came back empty handed he told the boss it was under my new copy of AA Wastelands. He was afraid I would really shoot him if he touched it......
He was right.
Jim in MO.
Jim,
ReplyDeleteJust kneecap him.
Jim,
ReplyDeleteYou ever use a flapjack?
You mean a slapper? It's in my desk. They took them away back in the 80's along with the white oak night sticks. Good ones are real pieces of art.
ReplyDeleteThose days are gone my friend. I think you could wear one out on some of these crankheads and they probably wouldn't feel it. Pain compliance is almost worthless anymore.
Jim in MO.
Jim,
ReplyDeleteYeah. I knew they had gone away but I was also in a class last year where the instructor mentioned they still used phonebooks in his PD.
Good point about pain levels
Ahhhh...........the good ole days.
ReplyDeleteJim in MO.
Kirk: "I take it the odds are against us and the situation is grim."
ReplyDeletePicard: "You could say that."
Kirk: "Sounds like fun!"
Jim;
My great-uncle was part of a special police unit, trained by a fellow named Col. Biddle. They had riot batons made of teak.
Stay safe
LA artist is painting burning banks: http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-bankburn-painting-20110913,0,6866438.story
ReplyDeletePolice have interviewed him to make sure he actually doesn't intend to commit arson against bank property.