Victor scanned the log book. The Winchester entry went on for an astonishing fourteen pages. Those boys had packed some ordinance.
To say the least.
"They ever talk about why they needed all that God damn ordinance?" Victor pulled out his cell and scrolled through his numbers – hit the one for Headquarters back in D.C.
How fitting and sad: a g-man's #1 on the speed dial is his work. I guess it's that way for anyone with a high pressure job, but. . . .
You and your damned details! ::sniffs::
The little dinger attached to the door goes off and Dick looks up, seeing three men walking back toward the counter. Three big men that move like cats, silent in their worn boots. The tallest one seems to be the youngest, and his cool, accessing stare makes Dick almost reach for the gun he carries. Almost. He stops himself with the merest twitch and the kid notices. His lips move, saying something to his companions and all three gazes are suddenly fastened on Dick and he feels...
Jesus, he feels like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Feels like a mouse under the stoop of a hawk. He can feel sweat break out, sudden and rank, under his arms and across his back and he lifts his hands from the t-shirts he forgot he was folding and holds them up.
Doesn't breathe until those hot, hungry gazes move off him.
DUDE!!!!!
It's the snippet! ::sighs:: ::is in lurve::
Faster than a snake, the older one's hand flashes out – grabs Jessup's wrist, twist and bend. It makes a grotesque crunching noise and Jessup sags, his face going a sick greenish-white. The air wheezes out of his lungs in a strangled squeal, and Dick can see his tobacco-stained teeth behind his lips.
"Don't touch me," Dean says, deadly quiet. All three of them practically vibrating with poorly-leashed tension and Dick thinks that if they had wolf's ears, they'd be laid back. If they had muzzles, they'd be crinkling in toothy snarls.
Wow, just--wow.
Gotta read the next part--and if you kill Dick, I'll wallop you! ::shakes fist::
"Earnest Pile"? Is the best name *ever*!
To say the least.
"They ever talk about why they needed all that God damn ordinance?" Victor pulled out his cell and scrolled through his numbers – hit the one for Headquarters back in D.C.
How fitting and sad: a g-man's #1 on the speed dial is his work. I guess it's that way for anyone with a high pressure job, but. . . .
You and your damned details!
::sniffs::
The little dinger attached to the door goes off and Dick looks up, seeing three men walking back toward the counter. Three big men that move like cats, silent in their worn boots. The tallest one seems to be the youngest, and his cool, accessing stare makes Dick almost reach for the gun he carries. Almost. He stops himself with the merest twitch and the kid notices. His lips move, saying something to his companions and all three gazes are suddenly fastened on Dick and he feels...
Jesus, he feels like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Feels like a mouse under the stoop of a hawk. He can feel sweat break out, sudden and rank, under his arms and across his back and he lifts his hands from the t-shirts he forgot he was folding and holds them up.
Doesn't breathe until those hot, hungry gazes move off him.
DUDE!!!!!
It's the snippet!
::sighs::
::is in lurve::
Faster than a snake, the older one's hand flashes out – grabs Jessup's wrist, twist and bend. It makes a grotesque crunching noise and Jessup sags, his face going a sick greenish-white. The air wheezes out of his lungs in a strangled squeal, and Dick can see his tobacco-stained teeth behind his lips.
"Don't touch me," Dean says, deadly quiet. All three of them practically vibrating with poorly-leashed tension and Dick thinks that if they had wolf's ears, they'd be laid back. If they had muzzles, they'd be crinkling in toothy snarls.
Wow, just--wow.
Gotta read the next part--and if you kill Dick, I'll wallop you!
::shakes fist::
Victor's pretty disposable, though.