Thursday, May 10, 2012

Just Call us Squad Expendable

So much to say… huh. That was weird. Déjà Vu.

… Moving right along though, I should start from the beginning.
So as Fracture had already explained, Picasso broke into our house by way of car. To be perfectly honest I was proud of her. She got really good at this while we were apart. She could still use some work but she’s come a long way from the crying girl who refused to kill.

Moving right along, again, she took a stray shot from Fracture and booked it firing off a few shots and I grabbed the effects I figured I would need and went through the window after her. I chased her for a good few hours in the shadows until she was sure she had lost me. She stopped for a breather right in the middle of the alleyway. Now was my chance to strike while she was tired and distracted. I crept down the fire escape above her as silently as I could and got up on the railing ready above her ready to pounce and drew out Fracture’s shovel.

I figure if she’s going to act like me then I could probably calm her tits the same way Fracture managed to calm mine, with blunt force trauma and screaming. It was difficult though. I hovered over for what felt like hours fighting off the fog. I knew if the fog won and I blacked out I would wake up to find her dead. One hand held the shovel; the other one held a knife and was frantically cutting into me in an effort to make sure I stayed in control for this. She deserved that much. I could suffer that much for her. The problem came when a few drops of blood found their way onto her. I knew I had to strike then.

I dropped down on her and clubbed her hard in the back of the head with the shovel before she had time to act. She screamed and went down limp on the floor. The fog was so thick, but fire shines bright in the darkness. I’ll spare you the gory details but I don’t think there was a single part of my skin that I didn’t piece at one point or another before the fog finally cleared and I knew Picasso was safe.

I worked fast after that to bind and gag her.  And then I sat down. I needed to give my skin time to recover. The wounds may close but it takes a good few hours before they stop ripping open at the slightest tug and as severely as I had laid into myself, the slightest movement had become enough to ripped them open again. After a hour I found I could move again.

I had stolen Fracture’s phone when I left. I used it to check the blog and found out where he had moved to. I pulled Picasso onto my shoulder, which hurt like fuck, and took off before it got any brighter out. I found my way to the hotel to find Fracture sitting on his car out front holding a sign that read ‘Picasso’.

“Took you long enough to get back with her,” he said opening his trunk. “Put her in and I’ll take her to her sentencing.”

“How did you know?” I said dumping her in. After reading what he said I was surprised to find him expecting. He even had all the medical tools he needed for a concussion on hand to treat her.

“I knew if I told everyone you were going to kill her you wouldn’t. You would find a way to prove me wrong because that’s who you are. You’re a fighter. In regards for being ready for a concussion, you left with the shovel. Wasn’t hard to figure out,” he said sewing up her scalp and putting ice on her head.

“Why didn’t you just say I took the shovel if you knew?” I asked.

“Because I’m a sucker for theatrics and this made for a far more interesting reveal,” he grinned… that nasty, knowing grin. “So have you figured out this ‘non-lethal’ thing yet?”

“Yeah, it’s still a process but I think it’ll only get easier from here. Are there more trials ahead after this? Are there more endless torments based on my own short comings to face?”



“I’m being completely serious Duckie. There is a storm brewing and the bureaucracy needs its collectors now more than ever.”

“What happened?”

“Redlight happened. People are panicking, work isn’t getting done, and the quota still stands. In times of crisis, the collectors have to pick up the slack but most of them are dead and no one is stepping up to take up their mantles. Steps are being taken to train new ones but we need results now. You’re going to be leading a troop of temporary collectors and square the numbers we need away.”

“I hope these people are expendable. I have a bad track record with teammates.”

“All of them, excluding myself, will be people you hand trained over the course of your career.”

“… I haven’t trained anyone.”

And then he grinned that fucking grin and left with Picasso. I cracked the back window of his car with a fucking rock.

Now that I think about it, this is another fucking trial. The high death rate of my teammates is a fucking short coming. You can’t trick me you assholes. Crisis or no crisis, I know this is just another step in your stupid little game with me.

Fuck you all,
Swan out.


  1. Yes, everyone is kind of freaking out over the whole redlight thing right now, aren't they? We get it, he's kind of a big deal. Still, as long as they're breathing down your neck they aren't breathing down mine, so whatever. Have fun with your hand trained teammates, fives bucks says they're all people you've pissed off in one way or another. Also that one guy that doesn't talk will be there, I bet he's a fun one.

    Fuck you too, Swan.

    1. When shits the fan, it tends to get everywhere...

      In regards to my future 'Teammates', that's certainly a good guess. I'm absolutely anticipating more 'dead' enemies showing up for this.

      And there are quite a few silent but creepy proxies aren't there. It wouldn't surprise me to see if one of those showed up too.

    2. No, I was talking about this guy that never talks:

      Isn't there some saying about the people you train actually training you or something? I mean it's bullshit of course, but I could see Fracture using that definition.

    3. Oh. Him. I couldn't imagine I would have him. He was a handler... but so is Fracture I guess. I don't think people hate him though.

      Just seems,... unlikely.

      Fracture has just been here following me. I almost always have to go to mister silent. I think my death sentence was an exception.

  2. You did it.
    You did not kill.
    I am proud of you Swan.

    1. Thank you... It's certainly not something to get use to. Not killing is a lot less fun.

  3. ... You're going to be a Squad leader?

    I mean, I don't intend for you to take any offence whatsoever. You'll have to forgive my incredulousness; I suppose that we really are shorthanded...

    Best of luck. Treat your Squad with respect, and they'll respect you in due turn.

    1. Yeah, I kind of had the same thought to be honest. My money says they're all going to die.
      Experience tells me so.

      It is a temporary squad though, so it may not last long enough for that to happen.
      Maybe I should come up with a squad name or something?

    2. Might help moral if you do. To be honest, there isn't exactly a lot of that in spades at the moment. Try as hard as you can to be a good leader. At least let them have a bit of confidence in someone before they...

      ... you get the point.

    3. I've got confidence to spare. If they're going to die, I'll make sure it's something beautiful...

      Fire Squad ... too obvious.
      Barber Squad ... sounds too much like Baker.
      Squad 926 ... I'd probably end up killing everyone at some point to put an end to it.

      ... Mask Squad? I think I like that.