Sometimes jobs don’t work out because of personnel conflicts, or because of bad logistics. Sometimes, jobs don’t work out because of other jobs. That’s what happened with the public kidnapping we’d picked up – no matter how hard I tried to figure it, I couldn’t seem to get myself into a mind where I could see us getting in and out without me losing what little tie I have to the real, legitimate world.
So we picked up a nice job cleaning up a nest of bastards who’d been endangering the public while they stole goods from big corps while trailers were en route. They were in these abandoned warehouses in the middle of nowhere, so Sable checked the place out. It felt slimy when we went in – apparently there’d been an awful fire some time back and it left behind some bad mojo.
I had the most glorious entrance – I jumped through the window (I love breaking glass) and landed on the table the marks were at and in one little spin, I took out one and shredded up the other three pretty well. I felt like a machine – a gorgeous, brilliant, pirouetting murdering machine!
Honestly, the rest is kind of a blur. I know there was a troll bear, and that I got to use another grenade, and that we got out free with some sweet merch that we sold to Armand.
After that, though, we got in touch with Jeb to help him solve an issue with some creepers kidnapping… well, creepers – the ghouls who we’ve been spending time with (read: giving them dead bodies). I like Jeb. As far as manly men go, he’s the most manly, so I’m always happy to get to see him and help him out where we can.
We sat in waiting for the vans of kidnappers to pull up, and then ambushed them when they came in. We got a few good licks in, but then we let the ghouls take over once we had most of them down on the ground. Sable got to do some killing – about time – and I poked around at one of the radiomen. He’d already called for his backup, but I killed him anyway and we left the mess to be cleaned up by Universal Omnitech – the bastards – and spread some words on the ’net, thanks to Dymond, to get word out that they were doing even more nasty stuff than before.
After that, going back to work was a good break from all the ruckus, but nothing could prepare me for the onslaught of questions from my students about my recent absences. Hiding out from the bug shaman took up most of my reserved vacation, but the short notice apparently was enough to raise a few eyebrows. I made up some story about going to see a second cousin who lives in Philly. I believe at one point I promised them that next time I’d bring souvenirs. They asked for spoons.
Who the hell wants spoons?!