The Den Games Network Forum RPG
virtualoctopus, CKW, Wesforce, Nyerguds
Begrudgingly accepting their fate, the 'runners let themselves be led to the waiting tourbuses painted in gaudy colours and eye-hurting graffiti that carried Time4Cryme and his vast entourage. Ghetto-clad Orks eyed them with distaste, grunting and laughing gutturally among each other.
Sensibly, all the 'runners were arranged to stay on one bus, big enough that it could be mistaken for a small road-train. It wasn't the biggest: Time4Cryme kept that to himself. It wasn't exactly inconspicuous: Painted (or plated) gold, a swimming pool on the top rear deck (some objects floating in it that might or might not have been syringes.
The beds were unkempt and there were spent .45 calibre brass cases on the floor, with some discarded gold chains. The bus smelt of stale sweat and nicotine smoke.
Home Sweet Home.
When Sasha followed the 'runners onto the bus, she wasn't fazed by the seething, angry eyes that bored into her.
"Take up the floor panels." She suggested, shutting the door firmly behind her, shutting off the worst of the Hip-Hop Oration Time had just started in the middle of JFK's arrivals lounge, much to the disgust of the security men.
Whipping up the gold-woven fur (it looked fake) rugs, the 'runners spotted the floor compartments. Tank and Iceman made short work of them, and several heavy chests were hauled up in short order. Inside were AK-97 Assault Rifles, HK Scatt-o-matic Short-Barrelled semi-auto Shotguns and a rack of IWS Smg70S' - Bullpup submachineguns fitted with built-in silencers. There was, of course, also enough ammunition to take on a small army.
"This is why we arranged for this little job-share." Boomed Iceman, grinning widely.
"What better way to hide our hardware than under the noses of such a bunch of arrogant fake ganster pricks? If they were discovered, we'd just inform the local Corps and have these fools taken out."
"You will be expected to work for these, however." Sasha reiterated, much to the general groaning of the 'runners.
"The Bus will leave shortly for Washington FDC. We are to help security at the Time4Cryme gig there."
Sasha opened a wardrobe at the back of the tourbus, but before they could fully examine the contents, the Bus got off to a jerky, powerful start.
Plugin was closest to a window: No-one else could see out as Tank crushed them all out of the way in the crush. The impromptu gig had erupted into Chaos when a bunch of passing robogoths and a group of 30 other guys all dressed in identical tracksuits, trainers and baseball caps attempted to coexist peacefully. Security waded in, and now Time4Cryme and his 'homiez' had to run for cover, leaving about 40 injured forms on the marble flooring behind them.
"Anyway" Said Sasha, coughing gently and holding a handrail now the bus was moving. "I suggest you try these on. Your uniforms."
The 'Uniforms' were double-breasted suits of gold-lame (he seemed to like this stuff) with tiger stripes on them, wrap-around shades and fake gold chains with large '¥' pendants.
Crystal eyed her new clothing cautiously, wondering when she'd wake up from this most terrible dream. In the background, Tank was booming with laughter, punctuated by the high tearing as he attempted to get dressed.
Just then, Time4Cryme's Hip-Hopera 'Carmen geddit yo bitches' came on, over the intercom.
It was going to be a long drive.
"Eh... OK... this is a bit over the top I think..." Silvia said.
She could imagine her mom's face when seeing her in that suit...
Sleg. She'd die laughing.
"Hey, you wanted in for free." Iceman grinned. "No one forced you in Terganon, but right here you follow orders, is that clear?"
"Aye sir." Silvia replied, and sighed.
She looked back at Iceman. "So, are you gonna dress up too?"
"Ah, com' on!" Alanya complained. "Ahm a decker! Ah came 'ere to deck into Matrix databases, not dress lahk a pimp ta earn guns ah ain't gonna use anyway!"
Rusty, unlike some of the others, had no problem getting into his *uniform* out in the open. He slipped into the awful, golden suit but left the tacky accessories in a pocket, unwillinging to compromise his dignity any further than necessary. Rusty examined the HK semi-auto shotgun he had picked up, his eyes running up and down the barrel as if searching for fault in the weapon. Rusty looked up and noticed that the barrel of the shotgun was pointing right at Iceman. Iceman was, interestingly enough, in line for the bathroom, possibly waiting for a chance to change into a gold-lame suit in private. Rusty grinned and imagined pulling the trigger and killing that S.O.B. in a messy fashion. Oh well, He thought. I can dream. He dropped the shotgun into a seat and sat himself next to it. The suit wasn't particulary comfortable and it smelt odd but Rusty eventualy found himself nodding off.
I wonder how that Alexiev is taking the new uniform issue?..........
Rusty jerked his head slightly as someone walked behind him - He hadn't heard their approach with all the damn noise.
It was Crystal, offering him a big, fat red shotgun shell.
'Neil's Ammo' it said, with '12-gauge: Exploding Flechette' printed in small letters.
She smiled at him: He'd never seen her too that before. The smile vanished sp quickly it may never have been there, and the two parted company.
Surprisingly, Crystal found that her suit fitted quite well. She tried not to look at one of the many oddly-stained 6ft mirrors hanging around for fear of damaging her delicate eyes, and picked up a silenced Smg in case it might be if use whatever they had to do later: She got the impression from the close chats Iceman and Sasha were having that the concert was not the main reason they were going to FDC.
Also, she knew her trusty Browning was but a pea-shooter compared to some of the things out there. Another lesson from Transys...
She fell asleep, and was soon writhing and thrashing in the grip of another steel-tentacle-filled nightmare, while Wolf laughed insanely, clawing out his own eyes.
Silvia looked at Iceman as he was talking to Sasha. He hadn't replied to her question.
"Guess not then." she said to herself.
She took another look at the suit she was supposed to wear.
"Meh. Let's give it a try."
She took the suit and put it on over her current clothes. Then, she removed her own clothes inside the suit with the storage spell. Like that she'd always have her own clothes with her, no matter what. She left the chain in the seat, and put on the shades.
She looked in one of the mirrors.
"Ew. I sure hope they don't point any 3DTV cameras on us at that show."
She took off the shades, threw them with the fake gold chain and grabbed her MP5 player. She wasn't in the mood to listen to Time4Cryme's music... in fact, after this, she didn't know if she'd ever be.
Ah frag. Sometimes I wished these plugs did block out all sound.
No music then.
She set the 'player to radio.
"...ther news, a strange incident occurred in France. Earlier today, an apartment block in Lyon was completely overgrown by what appear to be oak trees. The main suspects are two mage apprentices living in the block, but all attempts to get through the dense trees to reach their apartment failed, and four rent-a-cops mysteriously disappeared in the building. This is Samantha Rowentrude for WorldMedia radio news. We'll keep you updated! Back to you, Greg."
"Right, Sam. Moving on to Today's Death Counts! In London, the death count is going well over 140. Not counting the living dead, of course..."
Silvia put off the radio and frowned.
Trees? In Lyon? Crazy!
"Money is money... A job is a job..." Tundra had been repeating that since she had got on this light forsaken bus. She was sat on the rear top deck of the bus, by the swimming pool. It wasn't overly large, but it was water. Not very clean water, but she'd confirmed it was water... or at least, liquid. She'd been out of work for awhile, what with the mess the commet had made of her life. She hadn't been sleeping, her magic had become somewhat unrealible and she had been very ill of late. Just this week she'd caught another cold. Very ironic.
She was distantly aware that the bus had indeed stopped, she thought she heard new voices below her, but she didn't care. Why should she? She wasn't being paid to socialise, she was being paid to guard some dwarf muscian, although her definition of music did not fit his work, not to get chatty with some hired street trash... she almost laughed at the las few words of her thought. How she could be calling people in the same category as herself hired street trash... amazing.
As the bus went along the wide roads, she risked sticking her hand in the waters. Luckily a needle didn't greet it. She closed her eyes, giving the water a thin layer of ice on the surface. She was considering doing more, when one of Time's ork lackies poked his head up though the entrance.
"Yur ooniform mizz." He said to her, throwing the tacky gold cloth onto the pool. He had the same look of, not disgust... but distaste you could call it, that all ork's looked at her with. You see, Tundra wasn't like a lot of ork women. She wasn't massivley build, nor was she one of those doctored ork super models you see on 3DTV. Disgusting, may as well be human! No, she was, to put it simply, a runt. All skin and bones, barely a muscle on her. Most of her actual size was made up by her long blue dress and pale blue hair. Her face hadn't been looking it's best lately either, she had large black marks under her eyes. A tell tale sign of many nights of troubled sleep.
"And you expect me to wear that?" She replied, not even bothering to pick up the uniform.
"Erm.... ya!" Replied the ork, after some mild thought.
"Well, do you not think it would be more effective for me to take, say... a casual role?" Now that would have been enough to convince the Ork, but she felt she needed to go on. "Maybe for some of us to be unsuspecting to any trouble makers, spring a trap on them when they start trouble causing, you follow dear, don't you?"
"Kasu.... Kazoo... Ka... Ya! I think yoo right!" Said the dumbfounded Ork. "it ok for yoo to kum down?"
"I think it would be my duty!" She picked herself up from beside the pool an walked over to the hatch in the roof that lead to the pool. She would have to set eyes on these people at sometime or another, why not start now?
Crystal was woken roughly - Not that she'd really been sleeping comfortably anyway. Bright lights burned into her eyes, silhouetting the figure that had woken her up.
A figure from her nightmares.
She bolted upright, banging her head. Blushing, she shielded her eyes.
"Sorry." Said Alexiev. Crystal had though he was Wolf. An easy mistae to make.
She gave him a look that said 'back off', and he did, taking his time about it, too.
"Anyone ever tell you, for a mute you make one hell of a noise when ya sleep? Cause 'ya do." Rusty started, shockingly loud in the confines of the bus (Crystal noted that someone had jammed the intercom speakers with cushions to muffle the 'music').
"No offense or nuthin'!" Rusty carried on, seemingly immune to the looks Crystal was giving now.
Crystal relaxed. Any more frowning and her face felt like it would fall off.
The bus stopped. In the distance, the whine of feedback could be heard. Roadies were testing the speakers and Amps, setting up the venue. Some kind of disused cyber-ball stadium, it looked like. The Bold Name 'DC DARK ENERGY SQUAD' was half painted over.
"With a name like that, no wonder they don't have a stadium anymore." Someone muttered.
Iceman "All right, the gig's startin'. Get yer gear and meet outside with de rest of de crew. Sasha and I will..." He winked at her "Oversee things from the control room."
The 'runners filed out into the night. Even Tundra. The Ork with her insisted. Borderline polietely though, as she was a fellow Ork. It was chilly, but no-one seemed to mind. Not least the huge crowd of fans that were queuing up for the gig, snaking round to the front. They were being kept well away from here: Backstage. A 20 foot high fence saw to that.
They were all wearing their suits, and weren't allowed any weapons. As they expected, a low chuckle of laughter greeted them. All of Tyme's regular guards, minders and general hangers on - All orks - were waiting outside in a semi circle.
A big Ork in wrap-around shades and with a heavy Russian accent spoke, drowning out for a moment athe sounds of the roadies doing power-checks.
"Vell vell, vat have ve here? Not much it look like. Maybe dose fraggerz stiffed uz ven ve ask for local security eh?"
He spoke like that, not pausing, all one long, fluent horribly mashed sentence.
All the other security Orks chuckled behind him.
Crystal looked behind her. Sasha and Iceman were still in the bus, nowhere to be seen. The door looked like it was locked and the lights were off.
"Well fragz, before ve agree to vurk wit you, y00 must pass a test..."
A rather short but stocky Ork in shorts and a chest that was clad only in a billion gold chains strutted forward from the crowd, looking each of the 'runners in the eye in turn.
Silvia noticed she seemed to be the only one wearing the shades that came with their 'uniform'. It made her feel more secure from the short Ork's gaze. She couldn't help but grin when he passed her.
"Wot' yu smilin' at, runt?" the short Ork said.
"Ar'roogur merug sah." Silvia replied, well aware of her Genevan accent in the Orkish language. "It's good to come home."
The Ork frowned, and went on.
It would haver felt like a challenge, had it not been for the broad grin on the Ork's face. Tundra looked him in the teeth, an expression like a rock.
"Hey there von pip-squeak" He went to mess up her hair, she got it often from big Ork's, and was quite dreading this gig. But she was surprised to find another hand had stopped the Ork's in mid air.
"She's a grown woman, not a kid." Muttered the rather large Ork standing next to her. He had a large trench coat over his disgusting gold uniform, he didn't seem connected to the others, but did keep shifting his eyes to the Russian Human that Tundra had barely seen. Everybody was tense towards him.
"hmph... You vill not have ya bodyguard in there, fragging bitch..." He walked on the line. As he left, Tundra turn to the Ork. She hated not facing the people she was talking too.
"I can fight my own battles without some overgrown coat rack's interferance!" She said, quite angry. She hated people standing up for her or speaking for her too, she was a very inderpendant woman. Almost too much for her own good.
The Ork said nothing, and she didn't feel like arguing. She'd battle it out with this Ork another time.
The atmosphere backstage was tense, as the gold clad ork moved along the line Tundra stared at her unwanted ally.
Jessica Hayes had listened to the argument without moving. It was all akin to the frequent drill parades she had had to endure while stationed on the Red Dawn, she wasn't fazed. Hayes just stood there, eyes forward, just like the other ex-military runners were doing. The ork passed her without so much as a word, obviously, she had passed his inspection. Rusty, on the otherhand, some how attracted some criticism;
"Vot's dat? Yu fink yer 'ard enough to be part of dis elite, 'ardcore, crack security team? Do yer?"
Rusty, confused as to why he had been singled out, stammered in reflex;
"Sir. Yes sir."
The ork bellow in laughter, his jewellery bounced on his chest making a chink chink sound that did not complement the sound of the ork's laughter.
"Hey boyz! Looks like we gots us a reg'ler ozzie army boy! Tell us Crocodile Irwin, did a dingo eat yer baby?"
Rusty, hoping that affirmation would be a cease to the insults, replied;
"Actually, yes. A dingo did eat my baby."
The ork suddenly stopped laughing. He stared at Rusty a moment before inquiring;
"I thought dingos were ex-stinked, dead, all gone."
Rusty, regaining some of his composure, answered;
"So did I, until I lost my little Bruce."
The already short ork seemed to shrink into his boots as he heard that. Hands nervously wiping his shorts the ork mumbled an apology and then moved on. Rusty, after the ork had turned away, looked over at the others, winked and then grinned.
The short ork looked back to his boss. The boss motioned him along.
He came to Crystal. He stared at her. She stared back.
"What?" The Ork grunted. "Cat got your tongue?"
Crystal said nothing.
"Think you's hard, does ya?"
Crystal said nothing. She angled her head slightly. The hair covering her left eye fell away, so she could stare properly.
"Well, bitch? What the frag are ya doin' here anyway! You're... YOU'RE TOO FRAGGIN' SKINNY TO BE A BODYGUARD!"
Crystal remained silent.
The Ork lost it.
"YOU BITCH! YOU BITCH! HOW DARE YOU NOT ANSWER ME! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"
He flicked out the big, nastry rusty sword he called a knife that was in an insert in his trousers. Red-flecked metal swept in an arc toward the unmoving Crystal. She stared at it, almost welcomingly.
"Sorry, did that get in your way?" Said Alexeiv, regarding the steel-hard chopping hand he'd used with brutal effect on the Ork's sword-arm.
The Ork stared up at Alexeiv, staring him down (even though he was looking up) with his piggy, bloodshot yellow eyes. He nursed his arm. It was obvious to everyone that the arm hurt. Hurt, and how. The ork even let out a whimper.
"What?" Asked Alexeiv in a nonchalant tone. Then he turned and smiled brightly at Crystal, raising his eyebrows seevral times.
The boss ork called his lackey back, deciding enough was enough.
"Awright you'z fraggerz. here are youz passes." He handed out a thin red plastic card to everyone, on a neck chain. On it was a cartoon picture of Tyme4Cryme gunning down Rent-A-Cops with a MAC-10. With the legend 'Ork Powa Tourz 2064'
"NOW GET TO YOUR FRAGGING PLACES!" He bellowed.
Crystal had one chance to look at Tundra before they left. She shot her another look. A look that said: "I know how you feel. I wish I could tell you. I just wish this whole ridiculous charade was over, or that I was allowed to keep my guns on me. Ah well. Ours is not to reason why..."
But it was probably the same as her standard 'Don't frag with me' look.
When the gig started, it had made the previous aural assault on the 'runner's ears seem as the gentle patter of rain compared to the thunder of Panzer engines warming up. Tjousands of young fans had crammed into the place, and the 'runners had to man the steel fences to keep them from the stage. Tank proved to be a natural, bodily picking the kids up and lobbing them back into the crowd, bowling them over like ninepins.
"HELLO COMRADES!!!" Screamed Tyme4Cryme. "HOW'Z DA BEEF, WASHINGTON?!?"
Deafening screaming of fans, backed by synthesized drums.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!!" He shotedm trying to get a better rise out of the audience. Crystal shrugged. She had been to a few gigs, and wondered why the fraggers always played stupid games like that. Also, the noise was so deafening, she wondered if she'd be deafened, as well as mute.
Then a kid tried to climb the fence in front of her. She grabbed his hand, yanked it off the fence. He fell back off the fence, to be replaced by three more groupies.
How brutal are we supposed to be, anyway? She wondered. Then she caught a view of some of the Ork guards laughing and bulldozing a big group over with one of the fences they'd ripped up. Then she turned and saw Tank, with teenage fans clinging to his back and shoulders. He was grinning ear to ear, throwing them off like Mosquitoes.
Alexeiv, blood on his gold jacket, came dashig up to her.
"I won't let them near you, don't worry!"
His noble sentiment was shattered when a bottle of urine rebounded off his head, showering it's contents over all and sundry.
It was still the first 5 minutes of the concert...
I hope Silvia and Ash are having a better time of it... She wondered, forlornly, moving to help Rusty with a Teenage troll who was clambering up the side of the stage, armed with a giant foam sombrero...
Silvia, Tundra and Ash were guarding the VIP entrance to backstage. All kinds of petty celebrities and hangers on were filing through, no doubt to indulge in activities of dubious moral integrity in the wel-furnished area behind them. They all swore that if they heard the words 'Don't you know who I am?' ONE more time, they'd have to break into that tourbus with their bare hands, if only yo get their hands on some guns.
Then 4 more people came up to their door.
One dwarf in a smart suit. Probaly someone's agent. Two well-made up female elves chattering in Russian, and one skinny pale faced human in a hooded top, his hands in his pockets...
Tundra sat on a table by the backstage door in an idle manner. She had a bottle of water in her hand, occasionally sipping some of it, not too bothered about the people passing though.
"Aren't you going to help?" Questioned Silvia, obviously a little stressed. The loud music and hideous uniforns wasn't doing much for anybodies spirts.
"Of course not, my dear. I'm in reserve." Tundra replied casually, sipping some more precious water. Silvia looked poised to say more, but then the dwarf came into view.
"I'm sorry sir, we can't let you and your party though without some ID." Ash said on approach. But it was not the dwarf that worried Tundra, it was the man behind the Russian Elves. She finished the bottle of water, readying herself for trouble of some kind.
"ID, eh?" Said the Dwarf. Without pause he reached into his suit jacket and witthdrew a fistful of Credsticks.
The bright ¥ Symbols caught the light magnificently as he waved them back and forth...
Cash-only credsticks. He was offering a bribe.
The hooded guy was twitching nervously. A low muttering could be heard, words slightly below hearing. Bleached-white hair could just about be seen as his hood fell back slightly. He shifted from foot to foot, and his hands were doing something in his pockets...
"Get the sleggin' hell outta here."
The Dwarf smiled. "Oh, you want to take a look first..."
He stuck one of the credsticks towards them.
Silvia smiled, and slowly moved her hand towards the credstick.
Then, she suddenly shifted her hand into the 4 inch claw, embedded into the credstick and pulled. The dwarf quickly pulled the stick back, but he was too late. The stick snapped, and the front piece fell on the ground. Silvia shifted back immediately.
"Oops." she said, looking the dwarf straight in the eyes.
Wearing earplugs, he could feel, rather than hear the music - all around him, the world shook shook to the beat, and the movement of thousands of fans outside only intensified this. This strange silence was tense and suffocating, like some strange, choaking tide. Despite this, Choak felt glad that he had got so far - Joining the runners had been easy, joining the bodyguards easier. Now, the target was almost in his grasp, with very little to do but wait until the perfect moment.
Luckily, he, another orc bodyguard, and the human female rigger weren't manning the fences like the majority of the runners. Security was also needed out here, on the George. W. Bush Memorial Stadium's helipad, and (in his opinion), the most weedy looking guards had been stationed up here. It wasn't anyway near as taxing as what it would be like in the hell near the stage, which suited him just fine - just colder - with any luck, he could dissapear, into the chaos below to finish his job before the end, and none would suspect a thing.
He smiled, and looked out over the expanse of blackness and bright lights that was Washington FDC. Tonight was a good night, so good that with his strong earplugs blocking the sound of the rotors, he didn't notice the sleek Aztechnology-made Monochopper until it opened fire.
The Dwarf quiled, shrinking back. He wasn't cut out for this. Seeing a 16 year old girl in a gold suit suddenly develop claws-for-hands and destroy more money than he'd make in a year...
His two female accomplices were another matter.
"Petra! Do not let the capitalist oppressors stand in the way of our mission!"
The two strikingly pretty elves shrugged off their cloaks in the blink of an eye. They wore silvered leotards and little else. Moving with chipped speed, they began their attack prematurely...
Before Silvia knew anything was up, she was sent sprawling sideways by a roundhouse kick to the head. Moving like a ballet dancer, 'petra' swung into an agile sweep that took Sil's legs out from under her.
The other woman rounded on Ash, who brought her hands up defensively.
"What will you do, little girl?" She smirked, making Ash make the first move.
Silvia got up. Her head felt like it was going to explode,
The terrfied-lloking dwarf had flicked a swicth on his suitcase. It folded out to resemble one of those antique fold-away submachimeguns, He snapped a clip into place and pulled the charging handle.
"Boris. If she moves, kill her!" Purred Petra.
"Yes Comrade!" He quivered, but Something in Silvia's mind told her he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger in a moment's notice.
"Our Quarrel is with the Capitalist traior who calls himself 'Tyme4Cryme', not you." Petra added.
Tundra got up, and was about to act...
"AGH! AGH! OH MY GOD! I'M GOING TO DIEEEEeeeeeee!"
It was the hooded guy. She recognised him now. He was Tyme4Cryme'spersonal hairdresser. He ran to and fro, arms flailing, cutting Tundra off from the rest of the action.
"Move you fragging idiot!" Screamed Tundra as the man ran around in front of her. She tried screaming again, and nothing. She tried again, but this time saw red. She concentrated, lifting one hand she aimed for the mans legs. And before anyone knew it, the man had stopped dead. Unable to run with one leg frozen, the man fell to the ground, cursing as he went.
She was about to line up for an attack on one of the elves, but she was quicker. She landed a perfect kick on Tundra's waist before she'd even had the chance to make a snowflake. But it was too late to stop the flow of cold-death from her hands, but instead of hitting the target, it hit the poor young idiot in the face. Tundra watched as he clawed and clawed, but eventually his hands fell limp and he slumped to the ground.
There was nothing else for her to do. She considered running for the door marked "Stairs", but couldn't risk the water to seal it behind her. Stuck, she gave up. She gestured to the door, as much to say "Fine, go though." then sat up on the floor and dared not move.
Well, what did you expect, Sil? Now you're here with a dwarf that's about to snap...
"Hey... c... calm down, dude..." she said, carefully, but loud enough to get over the insanely loud music. "I don't even get paid for this!"
The dwarf frowned, but didn't let down his guard.
"If it were up to me I wouldn't even be here!" she continued.
Fragging Iceman. Where's that sleghead anyway?
The dwarf looked at her, in some combination of scared sh|tless and really angry.
Deadly combination Silvia thought.
"Th.. then why didn't ya take the f-fraggin' stick!?" the dwarf asked.
"There's more in the world than money, dammit!"
Not everyone can be bought she thought... but she was pretty sure that if she said that it would be the last thing she'd ever say.
Petra nodded at Tundra, winked even.
"Boris, Natascha. We're going through."
Ash, seeing her companions relenting, and having as little motivation for this job as anyone, let Natascha slide past her.
The three went through the double doors.
"Btw, don't call ANYONE, or we start shooting in here. Thank you Comrades!"
The door slid shut and locked with an air of finality. It looked very sturdy. Ironic, as the means to seperating the rich from the riff-raff were now keeping the rich hemmed in with people with guns.
To underline that, Silvia Ash and Tundra heard a burst of Submachine gun fire, falling masnonry, and lots of screaming and shouting in Russian.
"They're just leaving us out here? Confident fraggers..."
"What do we do now?" Silvia found herself thinking...
At the stage, The concert was coming to a sceduled break. Tyme would go backstage for a breather. But not the guards.
The press was getting unbearable. The Air Conditioning seemed non-existant. Tank seemed less and Ork and more a writhing mass of skinny bodies.
"Hold them comrades!" Screamed Alexeiv. "HOLD THEM BACK! FOR THE MOTHERLAND!" He seemed to be having the time of his life.
Yeah right. Crystal frowned. Get a fragging grip, it's only a concert...
Then a blob of phlegm from the crowd landed right on her forehead...
Without a word, Tundra got up. She straightened her dress, not bothering with her hair. It was a mess beforehand anyway. She walked over to the boy, now with an ice cast covering his face. She gave it a kick, it shattered. It wasn't a very thick layer anyway. As much as was needed to kill.
"Waste is such a terrible thing" She muttered, before grabbing another bottle of water from under her table and moving towards the door marked "stairs". She didn't intend to stay here any longer, deciding to make for the helipad on the roof. Not realising that her chances of survival were better down below.
"Where the sleg do you think your going?" Asked Silvia. Her reply was that of a door slamming.
Tundra climbed the darkened stairway, she could make out the door up above, but only just. She'd be there soon... She'd be "safe".
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