WARNING: The following is really fucking long. Read only when you have the spare time. And also something to drink.
~THE PITBROS HOUSE, MANHATTAN~
"Aaaand... check."
"Alright!" whooped Dirk as he threw his last bag into the back of the car. "All set and ready!"
Pit nodded, smiling. Finally, everything was ready. After months of preparation, planning and... not getting too excited, everything was ready for their third big excursion. This time, the ZFS Corporation had settled down in Las Vegas, looking to branch out into big-budget hotels and nightlife entertainment on top of all it's over services, and the Pitbros. knew the other Kobbers would be right behind. It hadn't been hard to find the new King of Beasts - the combined hotel, lounge and casino resort had been advertised literally everywhere one could advertise such a thing. And where the King of Beasts went, the angels would go, naturally.
As Dirk headed round the car to add his computer back to the collection in the back seat, Pit looked up just in time to see Utsuho emerging from the house, her own small bag slung over one shoulder. The older brother had made sure to pack her suitcase in with the others in the trunk of the car, so the Hell Raven didn't have as much to bother carrying from the house.
"You ready?" grinned Pit.
"Yeah," responded Utsuho, holding up her own bag. "I've got everything!"
"Alright, hop in." And Pit opened the passenger door, allowing Utsuho to walk down and climb into the seat. Then, as Dirk found his own place in the back, Pit circumnavigated the car and clambered into the driver's seat, ensuring he was well-seated before shutting the door.
"You excited to go?" he asked as he buckled up. "I know Vegas isn't going to be like anything you've been to before, so hopefully you'll enjoy it!"
"Yep!" Utsuho seemed to positively radiate excitement. "I mean, I know you took me to Manhattan, but you said it's a lot different from Vegas, so I'm really wondering what it'll be like!"
"Yeah, I've never been, either!" A grin split Pit's face as he pulled out the Satnav. "This is gonna be a new experience for both of us!"
"Not to mention getting married, too!" Dirk shot back. "Hope you guys booked a decent venue - if they don't do shots, I'm out!" Pit just rolled his eyes at that - maybe asking Dirk to be the best man wasn't the brilliant idea it had seemed at the time.
Utsuho turned a little red. "Eheheh... yeah, I'm looking forward to that... Oh what are you planning on doing, Dirk?" she queried, turning around to face Dirk where he sat.
The dark angel shot her a lewd grin. "More like who," he chuckled.
"Dirk, please," groaned Pit, facepalming.
"But yeah, I'm meeting up with Jo once we get there," clarified the younger angel. "She's been itching to go for ages - wants to challenge all the casinos, I bet." He grinned, knowing that his girlfriend's love of money was one feature he was more than happy to support - especially in a place like Vegas.
"Huh, didn't expect that out of her..." Utsuho took the time to mull that one over, before brightening up. "Well, hopefully she'll do a good job of it!"
"Don't worry, I'll be behind her all the way."
"Of course you will." Unfazed completely by yet another of Dirk's puns, Pit finished typing in the adress, and then hit the ignition button. At once, the car roared into life, almost as eager to get going as it's occupants were, and the sound seemed to lend some life into the white-winged angel. He gripped the steering wheel with expectant fervour and turned to his riding companions, eyes shining with excitement. "
"Alright," he called out, "we ready for off?"
"Yep!" was Utsuho's response. "I'm ready whenever you guys are!"
"Then off we go!" And with that, Pit pulled the car out of the driveway, swung it around with practiced ease, and then set off with no small amount of tire squeal down the road that lead out of the neighborhood and, eventually, Manhattan.
"Cocaine and booze," crowed Dirk, "here we come!"
"Dirk, please."
Monday, 27 April 2015
Monday, 20 April 2015
Hail to the King (Part 4)
Sam's day had, in a nutshell, gone down the drain.
It had started out okay, really. Christine, as part of the plan to gather more members of the 44, had drawn up a map and told him to basically meander down a path whilst the others split up in search of more help. The reason she'd given was that they would be able to quickly gather forces, supplies and more, whilst Sam, who didn't really know the land at all, would just head to the place where they would all meet up and act as a signpost. Then they would all just head back to where they were needed and get ready to kick the Magpies out.
Sam was fine with that - meandering was something he'd done a lot, back in his home world. Often, he and his troupe would do just that, wandering between villages and looking for problems to solve when the Kingsguard wasn't badgering him to kill the latest maniacal warlord or whatever. And one of the nice things about meandering was that it didn't require life-or-death decisions or unnecessary pain. Nobody tried to randomly attack you
Or so he thought, until the quintet of strangers jumped him when passing by some ruins.
The first thing he knew about it was when a massive slab of concrete came hurtling out of nowhere at him. He didn't even question it at the time, but with the benefit of hindsight, he had to wonder just how it got here - he wasn't even aware there was anyone who knew how to make concrete! Regardless, he let his reflexes do the talking, pulling out the Grandius and swinging before he had time to even think about what exactly he was doing, or how ridiculous it was going to look. Thankfully, the latter never even crossed his mind - if it did, he probably would have been reduced to a jammy paste on the floor.
Long story short, he cut the concrete in half, and let the two halves crash to the ground on either side of him. Standard procedure - he'd done it enough times in his career that he'd got it down pat. Now, all he had to do was to find the guy responsible and lecture him about proper concrete-throwing safety, so he wouldn't have to do it again. Maybe it'd be just some big, dumb brute, like a minotaur or giant, who had been playing stepping stones. Or maybe it'd be some megalomaniac idiot testing his new concrete-throwing weapon - wouldn't be the first time.
So when the man dressed in the Kevlar-paneled bodysuit stepped forward, he was somewhat disappointing.
The man didn't look like much, in all honesty. Close-cropped brown hair, angular face and green eyes presented a rather plain appearance. All that really stood out about him was the way the ground seemed to quiver beneath his feet as he walked, as well as what he was wearing. And once again, hindsight kicked him in the butt as, only a few moments later, would he recognize the insignia of the spread-winged, two-headed crow-like bird upon the chestplate of the outfit. Really, it had not been one of Sam's days for quick thinking.
"Sorry about that," said the stranger as he came into view. "I wasn't really aiming for you."
"Well, I should hope not," Sam retorted as he straightened up. "You don't just throw concrete about like-"
"No," responded the man, patiently. "That was meant to be the signal. But my throwing's not so good, you see."
It had started out okay, really. Christine, as part of the plan to gather more members of the 44, had drawn up a map and told him to basically meander down a path whilst the others split up in search of more help. The reason she'd given was that they would be able to quickly gather forces, supplies and more, whilst Sam, who didn't really know the land at all, would just head to the place where they would all meet up and act as a signpost. Then they would all just head back to where they were needed and get ready to kick the Magpies out.
Sam was fine with that - meandering was something he'd done a lot, back in his home world. Often, he and his troupe would do just that, wandering between villages and looking for problems to solve when the Kingsguard wasn't badgering him to kill the latest maniacal warlord or whatever. And one of the nice things about meandering was that it didn't require life-or-death decisions or unnecessary pain. Nobody tried to randomly attack you
Or so he thought, until the quintet of strangers jumped him when passing by some ruins.
The first thing he knew about it was when a massive slab of concrete came hurtling out of nowhere at him. He didn't even question it at the time, but with the benefit of hindsight, he had to wonder just how it got here - he wasn't even aware there was anyone who knew how to make concrete! Regardless, he let his reflexes do the talking, pulling out the Grandius and swinging before he had time to even think about what exactly he was doing, or how ridiculous it was going to look. Thankfully, the latter never even crossed his mind - if it did, he probably would have been reduced to a jammy paste on the floor.
Long story short, he cut the concrete in half, and let the two halves crash to the ground on either side of him. Standard procedure - he'd done it enough times in his career that he'd got it down pat. Now, all he had to do was to find the guy responsible and lecture him about proper concrete-throwing safety, so he wouldn't have to do it again. Maybe it'd be just some big, dumb brute, like a minotaur or giant, who had been playing stepping stones. Or maybe it'd be some megalomaniac idiot testing his new concrete-throwing weapon - wouldn't be the first time.
So when the man dressed in the Kevlar-paneled bodysuit stepped forward, he was somewhat disappointing.
The man didn't look like much, in all honesty. Close-cropped brown hair, angular face and green eyes presented a rather plain appearance. All that really stood out about him was the way the ground seemed to quiver beneath his feet as he walked, as well as what he was wearing. And once again, hindsight kicked him in the butt as, only a few moments later, would he recognize the insignia of the spread-winged, two-headed crow-like bird upon the chestplate of the outfit. Really, it had not been one of Sam's days for quick thinking.
"Sorry about that," said the stranger as he came into view. "I wasn't really aiming for you."
"Well, I should hope not," Sam retorted as he straightened up. "You don't just throw concrete about like-"
"No," responded the man, patiently. "That was meant to be the signal. But my throwing's not so good, you see."
Saturday, 11 April 2015
Quite Contrary, Faceless
It had started like any other day. Daniel was in the living room, enthused by Top Gear reruns on the grounds that there was nothing better to watch that day. Robbie, having completed his homework for the day, was engaging Crusoe in the morning newspaper's Sudoku challenges, although the not-a-cat had more than once complained about how easy the challenges were. And Carol was putting out the garbage - technically it was Daniel's turn, but he'd done it for two weeks and had complained vehemently about it, as was his style.
So here she was, lifting the lid of the bin and wrinkling her nose at the awful smells within. Ugh, there was a whole medley of stuff in here - the takeaway pizza from last night, that lasagne she couldn't finish, bits of fish, the piri piri sauce Daniel had taken one bite of and ran screaming from the room... Someday, they were going to give that bin a proper wash-out. But for now, the technopath concentrated on throwing the bag in and shutting the lid, pushing it down a bit to help it fit properly.
It occurred to her, at that moment, that the bird feeders needed refilling. They'd been brought recently, and Robbie enjoyed looking out of the back window and watching starlings, blackbirds and more gather around them and peck away at the seed within. So instead of heading straight back indoors, Carol turned around and headed down the side path, down to modest back garden that saw the brunt of the spring sun. The feeder hung by a wire on the fence at the other side of the garden, and the redhead had to cross the whole length of the grass so she could reach the feeder and unhook it.
Then she made the mistake of looking over the back fence.
At first, she thought it was just another one of the scraggly trees, lined up in neat rows in the field beyond. But she blinked, and it had moved forward by several meters, and then her brain began to register several things in a mad, cold rush of terror. Firstly, it wasn't even the same moss-dotted brownish-green colour as the other trees trees - only white and black, with a hint of red. Secondly, it was still moving, in a wobbly, foot-dragging and arm-swinging fashion that suggested it was too top-heavy for it's own good.
Third, it was moving right towards her.
So here she was, lifting the lid of the bin and wrinkling her nose at the awful smells within. Ugh, there was a whole medley of stuff in here - the takeaway pizza from last night, that lasagne she couldn't finish, bits of fish, the piri piri sauce Daniel had taken one bite of and ran screaming from the room... Someday, they were going to give that bin a proper wash-out. But for now, the technopath concentrated on throwing the bag in and shutting the lid, pushing it down a bit to help it fit properly.
It occurred to her, at that moment, that the bird feeders needed refilling. They'd been brought recently, and Robbie enjoyed looking out of the back window and watching starlings, blackbirds and more gather around them and peck away at the seed within. So instead of heading straight back indoors, Carol turned around and headed down the side path, down to modest back garden that saw the brunt of the spring sun. The feeder hung by a wire on the fence at the other side of the garden, and the redhead had to cross the whole length of the grass so she could reach the feeder and unhook it.
Then she made the mistake of looking over the back fence.
At first, she thought it was just another one of the scraggly trees, lined up in neat rows in the field beyond. But she blinked, and it had moved forward by several meters, and then her brain began to register several things in a mad, cold rush of terror. Firstly, it wasn't even the same moss-dotted brownish-green colour as the other trees trees - only white and black, with a hint of red. Secondly, it was still moving, in a wobbly, foot-dragging and arm-swinging fashion that suggested it was too top-heavy for it's own good.
Third, it was moving right towards her.
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