Post by justaguy on Dec 12, 2009 0:04:17 GMT -4
"That was sloppy Mr. Draven. Very very sloppy"
The voice belongs to Anita. No last name, just Anita. She is a slender redhead with a penchant for wearing black. She returns to her desk as she slides a folder across to Draven. Draven just rolls his eyes as he takes a peek inside the folder. He hated this office. Yea, sure it is high tech and all. Top of the line computer and electronics. But all the furniture had a chrome finish. The electronics were all the same shimmering silver. It all was very modern...and boring. A woman with as much fire and personality as Anita shouldn't be in just a cold metallic office like this one. Oh shit, she is saying something.
Anita: ..."he is a dangerous one. He has already killed two trackers."
Draven: Whoa, wait, what? One of these fakes killed two of our boys? Rookies?
Anita shook her head and tossed another folder towards Draven. Draven took one look and instantly saw red. The corpses of two agents shredded to look like pulled pork lay before him.
Draven: Who?
Anita: Conners and Langley.
Draven sank back in his chair with a stunned look on his face. Those two were top notch agents. Damn good at what they do...erm...uh...did.
Anita: I see you have some grasp of the severity of the situation. Draven, this one is not like the others. He wasn't made for slave labor. He was an commissioned prototype designed by the Mikada Corps to be sold to our military.
Draven: A fake solider?
Anita: A super solider.
Draven: A god damn Captain America knock off.
Anita: Quite. After he killed Langley, he vanished. We don't know where he is Draven. You will have to do most of the tracking on your own. Any input you gain we will put in our system to help you. You are mostly alone on this one.
Draven smirks and leans forward.
Draven: So, a real challenge then? When I bring this bastard in, you finally gonna take me up on my offer?
Anita's face is stone cold as she stands.
Anita: Out.
Draven remains seated until Anita knocks the chair backwards sending Draven spilling out to the floor.
Anita: Out.
Draven: You didn't say no.
Anita: OUT!
Draven almost yelps as he bolts out the door. The doors slams shut behind him causing him to flinch. He smirks as he walks way.
Draven: Oh yeah, she wants me.
--- 3 DAYS LATER ---
This hunt has gone horribly thus far. The only fucking lead has been killed. Poor bastard had his tounge cut out. To top it off, nobody has heard from his family in more than two days. If anything happens to them, its on my hands. On your own she said. Fucking hag knew we didn't have shit on this guy. Dammit.
These are the inner most thoughts of Alex Draven as he peers through the binoculars. The Mikada Corps building was out here in the middle of god damn nowhere. It stood about 800ft tall. The all glass exterior caused quite the blinding effect. Thus the reason this place was the only building on the entire road. Draven kept his distance. He lay on his stomach about two miles from the structure. He used his trucks off roading abilities to stay in the fields. The building was crawling with security. Just on this side of the building alone Draven could see no less that a full dozen security types, each carried a fully automatic rifle, no doubt some sort of military prototype. Each man also had a small firearm on their hip. One could surmize the other side of the building was just as secure. A damned fortress.
He could use his sniper rifle and take out a good number of those bastards, get back in the truck, and haul ass outta there before they knew what hit them. That would be useless, at most he would kill about eight of them and would only cause the Mikada Corps to call in more troops. Not to mention how many bastards are already inside the building. No, Draven would need to be smart about getting into this building. Thus why he was watching. If anybody came out with an armload of paper work, that would be his target. It wasn't much longer when a woman came out carrying a manilla envelope in her left hand and a black briefcase in the other. The security seemed to be ultra attentive. Draven could surmise two reasons for this: 1. She was a higher up or a bitch. 2. Well, look at that figure and tell me why men would pay extra attention to her. Draven kept his attention on her and watched her climb into a fire engine red Bugatti Veyron 16.4.
Fuck, catching her in the F150 is out of the equation.
Draven gets to his feet and starts back towards his truck. He gets over the top of the hill and looks down to see two Mikada Corps guards giving his truck a look over. By the looks of it they had just arrived. Using his gun here was not an option. The last thing he needed was a swarm of these bastards. Looking around Draven found a fist sized rock, saying a quick prayer for his truck, Draven raced forward and flung the rock at the back of one the guards heads. It connected with a sickening smack. The guard hit the ground like a load of bricks. His buddy spun around but was tackled to the ground, driving the air from his lungs. Draven quickly locked in a choke and a moment later a loud snap signaled the man's neck had been broken and to the ground he went. Curious, Draven used his knife to dig into the man's neck and sure enough, there was a chip. Likewise for the other guard. All the security were replicants. A home grown army. This was bad...real fucking bad.
Draven slides into the driver's seat of his black F150 and dials in Anita's number. Seconds later she appears on the screen.
Draven: Yo boss, I got some bad news for ya. This place is...
Voice: So, you are the great Repo Man they call Alex Draven.
A large man slides into view. His gun planted against the side of Anita's skull. Even in this situation, Anita is not scared but she is beyond pissed off. Draven pulls a Marlboro from its pack and lights it. He takes a drag off it before he talks again.
Draven: You know me and I am guessing I know you. Kel Hauer, right?
While the man nods in agreement, Anita blinks twice. A signal. This little bastard was just a hired hand. A human sent to do the dirty work. How this dumb bastard got to Anita's office would be an interesting story. However, Draven was now confident that Anita would soon have that bastard begging for his life.
Draven: So, it is just the two of you for dinner tonight or are you wanting some company.
"Kel" : Oh, I think you will find plenty of company waiting for you here.
Draven: Hmph, the more the merrier. I will be in there in a few hours asshole.
Draven kills the signal and throws the truck in gear. As he drives he begins to speak.
Draven: Now is as good a time as any. My blood is pumpin' and I have one hell of a long drive ahead of me.
Draven: Seriously? Mortal Kombat? That was the best you could muster up. A overrated game from the 90's? The least you could do is show some old school knowledge and drop some Killer Instinct on us. I found your take on this upcoming even rather interesting. Inspiring even. Thus, I have decided to follow in your footsteps. I have never been much for analogies but I figure, what the Hell.
You talk about am I Sub-Zero, Liu Kang, Scorpion...I am most like Johnny Cage cause I am the sexist sumbitch in the APW. Now, let's try to parlay this to you shall we. Let's compare you to a classic. A legend even. Let's compare you to...Monopoly. So, are you the Top Hat? The Shoe? The race car? How about the battleship? The answer is...none of the above. No, see you are hands down the most useless and irrelevant piece to the APW puzzle. In fact, I am thinking Jeff book you against me so I could take out the garbage. Now, how does that work in this little translation we have going here...ah, got it. You sir are the thimble. You know what a thimble is don't ya? It is not very common to see any more. Anybody who uses it is not overly good at what they do. A thimble blocks the needle from pricking your thumb. It blocks pricks. You sir are a prick blocker. Which is kinda surprising considering before I thought about this analogy I would have guessed you were a prick. I mean take a look in the mirror and your head does kinda have that phallic shape.
You need to understand, War Bucks, this is not a fucking game. I don't go to a gym and lift weights. I do not train with some damned muscle bound, roided up jackass. I fight on the streets. I have killed more people than I care to recall. I do not dare go near a hospital. There are too many piggies who would love to see me on their mantle. I do not play fucking games! I survive life at the barrel of a gun. So, War Bucks, I am not coming to play games. I am not coming to wrestler. I am coming to fight. For your sake, I pay to God on high that you are too.
Now you went on and on for FUCKING ever. Yet, you really managed to not say shit. Look just spar all of us a favor. Tell us how much you enjoy jerking off to Hurricane Jeff DVD's and then for the love of FUCK just shut the Hell up.
Fuck Off and Die, amigo.
The voice belongs to Anita. No last name, just Anita. She is a slender redhead with a penchant for wearing black. She returns to her desk as she slides a folder across to Draven. Draven just rolls his eyes as he takes a peek inside the folder. He hated this office. Yea, sure it is high tech and all. Top of the line computer and electronics. But all the furniture had a chrome finish. The electronics were all the same shimmering silver. It all was very modern...and boring. A woman with as much fire and personality as Anita shouldn't be in just a cold metallic office like this one. Oh shit, she is saying something.
Anita: ..."he is a dangerous one. He has already killed two trackers."
Draven: Whoa, wait, what? One of these fakes killed two of our boys? Rookies?
Anita shook her head and tossed another folder towards Draven. Draven took one look and instantly saw red. The corpses of two agents shredded to look like pulled pork lay before him.
Draven: Who?
Anita: Conners and Langley.
Draven sank back in his chair with a stunned look on his face. Those two were top notch agents. Damn good at what they do...erm...uh...did.
Anita: I see you have some grasp of the severity of the situation. Draven, this one is not like the others. He wasn't made for slave labor. He was an commissioned prototype designed by the Mikada Corps to be sold to our military.
Draven: A fake solider?
Anita: A super solider.
Draven: A god damn Captain America knock off.
Anita: Quite. After he killed Langley, he vanished. We don't know where he is Draven. You will have to do most of the tracking on your own. Any input you gain we will put in our system to help you. You are mostly alone on this one.
Draven smirks and leans forward.
Draven: So, a real challenge then? When I bring this bastard in, you finally gonna take me up on my offer?
Anita's face is stone cold as she stands.
Anita: Out.
Draven remains seated until Anita knocks the chair backwards sending Draven spilling out to the floor.
Anita: Out.
Draven: You didn't say no.
Anita: OUT!
Draven almost yelps as he bolts out the door. The doors slams shut behind him causing him to flinch. He smirks as he walks way.
Draven: Oh yeah, she wants me.
--- 3 DAYS LATER ---
This hunt has gone horribly thus far. The only fucking lead has been killed. Poor bastard had his tounge cut out. To top it off, nobody has heard from his family in more than two days. If anything happens to them, its on my hands. On your own she said. Fucking hag knew we didn't have shit on this guy. Dammit.
These are the inner most thoughts of Alex Draven as he peers through the binoculars. The Mikada Corps building was out here in the middle of god damn nowhere. It stood about 800ft tall. The all glass exterior caused quite the blinding effect. Thus the reason this place was the only building on the entire road. Draven kept his distance. He lay on his stomach about two miles from the structure. He used his trucks off roading abilities to stay in the fields. The building was crawling with security. Just on this side of the building alone Draven could see no less that a full dozen security types, each carried a fully automatic rifle, no doubt some sort of military prototype. Each man also had a small firearm on their hip. One could surmize the other side of the building was just as secure. A damned fortress.
He could use his sniper rifle and take out a good number of those bastards, get back in the truck, and haul ass outta there before they knew what hit them. That would be useless, at most he would kill about eight of them and would only cause the Mikada Corps to call in more troops. Not to mention how many bastards are already inside the building. No, Draven would need to be smart about getting into this building. Thus why he was watching. If anybody came out with an armload of paper work, that would be his target. It wasn't much longer when a woman came out carrying a manilla envelope in her left hand and a black briefcase in the other. The security seemed to be ultra attentive. Draven could surmise two reasons for this: 1. She was a higher up or a bitch. 2. Well, look at that figure and tell me why men would pay extra attention to her. Draven kept his attention on her and watched her climb into a fire engine red Bugatti Veyron 16.4.
Fuck, catching her in the F150 is out of the equation.
Draven gets to his feet and starts back towards his truck. He gets over the top of the hill and looks down to see two Mikada Corps guards giving his truck a look over. By the looks of it they had just arrived. Using his gun here was not an option. The last thing he needed was a swarm of these bastards. Looking around Draven found a fist sized rock, saying a quick prayer for his truck, Draven raced forward and flung the rock at the back of one the guards heads. It connected with a sickening smack. The guard hit the ground like a load of bricks. His buddy spun around but was tackled to the ground, driving the air from his lungs. Draven quickly locked in a choke and a moment later a loud snap signaled the man's neck had been broken and to the ground he went. Curious, Draven used his knife to dig into the man's neck and sure enough, there was a chip. Likewise for the other guard. All the security were replicants. A home grown army. This was bad...real fucking bad.
Draven slides into the driver's seat of his black F150 and dials in Anita's number. Seconds later she appears on the screen.
Draven: Yo boss, I got some bad news for ya. This place is...
Voice: So, you are the great Repo Man they call Alex Draven.
A large man slides into view. His gun planted against the side of Anita's skull. Even in this situation, Anita is not scared but she is beyond pissed off. Draven pulls a Marlboro from its pack and lights it. He takes a drag off it before he talks again.
Draven: You know me and I am guessing I know you. Kel Hauer, right?
While the man nods in agreement, Anita blinks twice. A signal. This little bastard was just a hired hand. A human sent to do the dirty work. How this dumb bastard got to Anita's office would be an interesting story. However, Draven was now confident that Anita would soon have that bastard begging for his life.
Draven: So, it is just the two of you for dinner tonight or are you wanting some company.
"Kel" : Oh, I think you will find plenty of company waiting for you here.
Draven: Hmph, the more the merrier. I will be in there in a few hours asshole.
Draven kills the signal and throws the truck in gear. As he drives he begins to speak.
Draven: Now is as good a time as any. My blood is pumpin' and I have one hell of a long drive ahead of me.
Draven: Seriously? Mortal Kombat? That was the best you could muster up. A overrated game from the 90's? The least you could do is show some old school knowledge and drop some Killer Instinct on us. I found your take on this upcoming even rather interesting. Inspiring even. Thus, I have decided to follow in your footsteps. I have never been much for analogies but I figure, what the Hell.
You talk about am I Sub-Zero, Liu Kang, Scorpion...I am most like Johnny Cage cause I am the sexist sumbitch in the APW. Now, let's try to parlay this to you shall we. Let's compare you to a classic. A legend even. Let's compare you to...Monopoly. So, are you the Top Hat? The Shoe? The race car? How about the battleship? The answer is...none of the above. No, see you are hands down the most useless and irrelevant piece to the APW puzzle. In fact, I am thinking Jeff book you against me so I could take out the garbage. Now, how does that work in this little translation we have going here...ah, got it. You sir are the thimble. You know what a thimble is don't ya? It is not very common to see any more. Anybody who uses it is not overly good at what they do. A thimble blocks the needle from pricking your thumb. It blocks pricks. You sir are a prick blocker. Which is kinda surprising considering before I thought about this analogy I would have guessed you were a prick. I mean take a look in the mirror and your head does kinda have that phallic shape.
You need to understand, War Bucks, this is not a fucking game. I don't go to a gym and lift weights. I do not train with some damned muscle bound, roided up jackass. I fight on the streets. I have killed more people than I care to recall. I do not dare go near a hospital. There are too many piggies who would love to see me on their mantle. I do not play fucking games! I survive life at the barrel of a gun. So, War Bucks, I am not coming to play games. I am not coming to wrestler. I am coming to fight. For your sake, I pay to God on high that you are too.
Now you went on and on for FUCKING ever. Yet, you really managed to not say shit. Look just spar all of us a favor. Tell us how much you enjoy jerking off to Hurricane Jeff DVD's and then for the love of FUCK just shut the Hell up.
Fuck Off and Die, amigo.
