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03-17-2011, 09:55 AM | #101 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
|
“I can’t believe Duke is making me wear this.”
Chuckles rolled his eyes and looked at his traveling companion. She had her feet on the dashboard of the Government issue Crown Victoria and was fiddling with her hair, making sure her pig-tails were firmly in place and that her dark oversized sunglasses her meticulously perched on her nose. Her legs ran from under a short, schoolgirl skirt and were encased in thin black fishnets. They ended in shiny patent leather shoes held in place with a silver buckles. Secured firmly around her left ankle was a black electronic monitoring device that was all the rage with parolees and those under house arrest. “Really? You’re bitching about an ankle bracelet. You conveniently forgot to mention yesterday that you were under house arrest and on suspension pending investigation from the team for hacking a gaming Website, you claim, was a front for Cobra. Would have been good to know before I went to Duke and told him I wanted to take you with me on this.” Michelle crossed her arms in true pouty school-girl fashion and stuck out her bottom lip. She did, however, remain quiet. Chuckles knew her well enough to know that this was sure sign that he had just confronted her with something as dastardly as the truth. They drove along Route 64, east of St. Louis. It was a seemingly endless road that stretched out before them in a long and rather boring ribbon of blacktop. “Ok, so tell me again why we couldn’t have flown out here.” The ankle bracelet, and possibly, the preceding conversation in its entirety had been forgotten in the blur of her ADHD. He checked his watch; it was a record, almost a full forty-five seconds of silence, and the first since their departure from Washington D.C. earlier that morning. Without taking his eyes off the road he shrugged, “I like to drive, give me time to think.” “Well I don’t like it. It’s boring, and there isn’t anything fun to see unless you really like cows and cornfields, which I don’t for the record. And the only radio stations I can get are playing Country music, and did I mention it was boring…B-O.R.I.N.G.” She spelled the last word again for emphasis. It occurred to Chuckles that he might have to duct tape her and put her in the trunk. “You’d rather be back in your apartment waiting for the board of review hearing?” “Good point”, her hands flopped into her lap as if in resigning to her boring fate. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under herself. Leaning forward she began rooting around in the oversized Coach bag on the floor of the car. Random items of varying degrees of appropriateness appeared and disappeared back into the bag amid her muttering of “No, not it, where is it, can’t believe this is in here. Oh, I’ve been looking for that…” Chuckles made note of how the schoolgirl skirt rode high on her legs, apparently the fish-nets were thigh-highs. One of the perk of being a well-trained investigator, he never missed anything. “Ha! There it is.” she exclaimed and produced her Blackberry from the bag. Chuckles took a deep breath the kept driving without interrupting her.She paid him no attention and bopped back and forth in the passenger seat, scrolling through Blackberry looking for her latest train of thought. “Ok, BioDesign, incorporated in Baltimore, Maryland, but most of the R and D is done in the Washington D.C. lab, presumably so that the Government big-wigs can check on their investment. Everything seemed to be on the up and up except that I found a single data-stream that was being sent off site. Not strange you say? Well I didn’t think so at first either, until I realized that the data wasn’t being sent through normal file transfer protocols consistent with the BioDesign’s server network and exchange servers. The data stream I isolated was outgoing only, and was back-feeding along a non-secure data link….I think it was their digital cable lines. I bet if I physically tore apart BioDesign’s network I would find a transmitter and a receiver linking their secure networks to an open and unmonitored system. Someone has been mining their secure network for data for months." Chuckles had heard all of this already, but let her continue on. Her thought processes, he was learning, worked best when she vocalized, everything. And she did, rather incessantly. “So the data was not only being sent off site, but it was highly encrypted, so I couldn’t tell what it was. But I could tell where it was going.” “Springfield” Chuckles stated, apparently to no one in particular. “Springfield”, she continued on, matter-of-factly, lost in the scrolling text on the Blackberry. “We’ve, I mean, the Joes, not you and me, have thought that Springfield has been a hot-bed of covert Cobra activity for years, but have never really been able to find out anything but some small weapons caches and fanatical propaganda targeted at youth groups. You’d find that in every city these days, probably on the same block that you’d find Hezbollah and Al Qaeda. Do you think Cobra has medical and dental?” Chuckles shot her a look of disbelief “Seriously, is that the way your mind really works?” She nodded happily, never looking up. “Why? It would be a great recruitment tool. Join Cobra, we pay better than McDonalds and offer full medical and dental.” Chuckles admitted that she posed an interesting point. A lot of folk would do some pretty twisted things to take care of themselves and their families. So what if it meant joining an evil organization bent on world domination. Hell, Cobra was probably so compartmentalized and spread out through shell companies that most “employees” probably had no idea who they really worked for. They punched their time clocks and got paid every week. “So what’s the plan?” she asked as she cracked open a fresh Red Bull which she had produced from the depths of her purse. Chuckles shrugged, “We find where that signal was being pumped and go from there?” “Not much of a plan, glad you had a thousand miles of thinking to come up with that gem.” “You’re not allergic to duct-tape, are you?” Last edited by Flint071; 03-17-2011 at 10:15 AM.. |
03-17-2011, 04:18 PM | #102 |
Duke's Secret Mistress
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: Fort Riley, Kansas
Posts: 243
|
oh love the lil nod to me sweet hometown of ole bal-T-mor! keep up the good work homes
__________________
Sweet, mild mannered Mommy and crafter by day, bad a$$ snake skinnnin' mamacita by night! "There are only two ways out of my command. On your feet like a man, or in a ditty bag. An itty bitty ditty bag!" "You nuked Siberia and all you got was a limp?!" Army Wife forever! Sgt. Cilento is my Real American Hero. |
03-19-2011, 10:26 PM | #103 |
IG 4 LIFE
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: The last place you would think
Posts: 17,671
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Give em coming man. Loving it
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03-23-2011, 11:15 PM | #104 |
IG 4 LIFE
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: The last place you would think
Posts: 17,671
|
I need my fix brother
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04-20-2011, 01:15 PM | #105 |
Duke's Secret Mistress
Join Date: Jan 2011
Location: Fort Riley, Kansas
Posts: 243
|
oooh flint, don't forget about us. ya can't leave us like this!!
__________________
Sweet, mild mannered Mommy and crafter by day, bad a$$ snake skinnnin' mamacita by night! "There are only two ways out of my command. On your feet like a man, or in a ditty bag. An itty bitty ditty bag!" "You nuked Siberia and all you got was a limp?!" Army Wife forever! Sgt. Cilento is my Real American Hero. |
04-22-2011, 02:38 AM | #106 |
Super Customizer!
Join Date: May 2008
Location: Delmar, MD
Posts: 935
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Its been waaaaaaay too long! Help!
__________________
Jeditaz's Dark Side Customs Please check out my customs. Always up for commissions if you guys want any as well! My feedback http://www.hisstank.com/forum/buy-se...ck-thread.html |
05-11-2011, 01:50 PM | #107 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
|
There was light.
Flint blinked his eyes, fighting off the darkness that pervaded his peripheral vision, and dared to swallow him back into unconsciousness. He was lashed to a simple wooden chair. The rough corded rope cut into his upper arms and looped back around both wrists and ankles, effectively securing him in place. Whoever had tied the knots had a high degree of expertise as even the slightest motion caused the ropes to constrict further. After a moment of futile struggling Flint took deep breath and resigned to the situation at hand. He had been captured. Methodically he began to analyzing his surroundings. It was a stonework room, damp and musty, maybe a basement. His boots had been removed, and he felt that the floor was hard-packed dirt or clay. There was only a single point of entry, a solid oak door with rusting iron hinges; pins on the outside, of course. The only light came from a naked light-bulb hanging directly over his head on a thin black wire that disappeared into the ceiling. The light emanating from the bulb bathed the chamber with a dim white light that barely reached the farthest corners. He grimaced at the distinct lack of options for escape. Closing his eyes, Flint concentrated on sounds. He expected to hear the screams of other prisoners, or the hushed conversations of guards. There were none. He continued to listen to the silence for a few minutes more, keeping his own breathing shallow, remaining absolutely still. Finally, he exhaled heavily and leaned back into the chair, finding a position that didn’t cut off the circulation to his fingers. There was nothing else to do but wait. If they had wanted him dead, they could have put two in his brain-pan in the hotel room after he was tasered. The list of would be captors was growing every days since he had agreed to having a drink with the Baroness. As best Flint could figure, Destro was probably the leading candidate. You don’t sleep with a man’s wife, steal his jet and then leave a trail of bodies behind you without causing some hard feelings. Then again, tossing one of the Crimson Twins off a rooftop in Panama wasn’t likely to have gained him any favor with the Commander either. With the initial panic and adrenal response that he had experienced upon waking now wearing off Flint became painfully aware of the knot on the back of his head. It was the lingered effect of the Shock Troopers booted heel delivering the final blow of their melee in the hotel room. His skull was throbbing painfully, adding to the discomfort caused by the ropes digging into his arms and wrists. Flint’s thoughts drifted to a few years earlier. He had been captured, along with the Baroness, and held by the Russian Mafia and Yakuza. Their interrogator had pumped they full of sodium pentothal and had thrown them both a rather savage beating in hopes of learning the whereabouts of the then missing Cobra Commander. They had only managed to orchestrate an escape by using the Baroness’s broken glasses to cut their bindings. Flint’s memory fast-forwarded to their eventual rescue by a joint Joe/Cobra team, led by none other than Destro and Lady Jaye. Flint pondered the irony of their respective lovers coming to save them. He saddened as he remembered the look of jealousy and hurt on Alison’s face when the Baroness had kissed him, a reward of sorts for helping her survive their ordeal. He also knew that her kiss had been nothing more than a sadistic jab at his wife. A parting shot before exiting in the arms of her husband. Of course, Alison promptly responded by knocking him on his ass with a right cross. Jealousy was a bitch. But his beautiful Alison had come to save him that day. No one was coming to save him today. As if fate decided to punctuate that revelation, Flint heard the sound of keys in the lock of the heavy oaken door. The lock clicked open and door swung open slowly in an almost theatric fashion, accompanied with the obligatory creaking of the hinges. Flint narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, it was go time. The man who entered the room was dressed in green surgical scrubs that looked entirely too orderly and sterile for the current environment. With the man was a small stainless steel cart which he pushed into the room. “Good morning, Mr. Faireborne, I am Doctor Andrew Walker”. Walker’s manner was inconsistent with their current surroundings and instead suggested he had just walked into an examination room at the local clinic. Flint’s skin crawled as he regarded the doctor; perfectly manicured hands, a suntan most likely from spray bottle and blonde hair bleached so hard it was almost white. His hair was styled into a fashionable spiked do, complete with frosted tips. “How ya doin’, Doc?” Flint replied, “Not sure what we’re doing here? I already had my physical this year.” The doctor flashed him a wide, almost genuine, smile showing his perfectly white teeth which looked very shark-like in the dim light of the room. “Well, Mr. Faireborne, I’ll take you at your word that you are in perfect health, but let me assure you that is not why we are here.” Walker giggled. The giggle made Flint’s skin crawl that much more as it belied something sadistic from the depths of the doctor’s being. “Great bed-side manner, Doc. I bet that really put your patients at ease, especially that fucking sick giggle of yours.” Walker’s demeanor became hard.” Unlike most medical practitioners, my patients never have to ask if it is going to hurt.” A cruel smile formed on his lips “They know it is going to hurt.” Flint glared at the man, his muscles straining against the heavy ropes. Beads of sweat formed on his brown and a cold shiver ran down his spine. No one was coming to save him today. Walker donned white latex gloves taken from a drawer on the metal cart. “Now, Mr. Faireborne, my employer would like to know the whereabouts of Baroness DeCobray.” “Them and me both” Flint retorted, already preparing for whatever was to come. “That is a rather unacceptable answer, Mr. Faireborne.” Walker back-handed Flint across the face, connecting solidly enough to rock the chair to which Flint was tied side to side. Flint tasted the familiar metallic taste of blood on this tongue as the chair set back on all four legs. Spitting the blood it at the doctor’s feet he leaned forward. “Fuck! Did they teach you that back-hand maneuver in medical school?” Walker giggled his sadistic little giggle and countered with a back-hand to Flint’s other side. Again, Walker connected well enough to rock Flint side to side in the chair. Flint shook his head; he had actually seen stars from that one. “Well motherfucker,” Flint growled “We’re going to be at this all day, because I don’t know where she is.” Walker’s eyes glowed in what would only be described as delight. “I was so hoping you would say that.” Last edited by Flint071; 05-11-2011 at 07:06 PM.. |
05-11-2011, 02:32 PM | #108 |
Hector Delgado
Join Date: Jun 2009
Location: South FL
Posts: 11,442
|
YOu're going to have fun with the Mercs, I can tell.
__________________
🗻 |
05-11-2011, 06:42 PM | #109 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
|
There was only darkness.
Anastasia hit the ground hard, forcing what little air she had from her lungs. Disoriented as she was she tried to apply her training, breathe shallow, to conserve air. Listen to the surroundings for tell-tale clues as to determine location. Stay calm. She was wrapped in something, not tightly, as she had room to move. It was course against her skin, almost like a heavy canvas. She was still naked and the interior of her trappings smelled heavily from chlorinated water, no doubt from the hot tub where she was relaxing before her attack. “Stay calm, “Anastasia muttered to herself as she lay perfectly still. The last thing she had remembered was the strong black gloved hand pushing her beneath the water, her lungs screaming for air and the water filling her mouth. “Stay calm” she reminded herself again as the memory of almost drowning caused her heart to race within her chest. She felt as if she was suffocating. She had to get out, get out of whatever shroud was covering her. “Calm, the fuck down”. She listened intently and regained control, albeit tenuous at best. There were too many noises coming at her at once, and they were muffled through the material of the bag. She could hear people talking in Spanish, there were machines running, maybe heavy equipment; definitely the distinct rattle of tracks, a bulldozer or maybe a tank. Occasionally there was yelling. Someone was yelling orders to get back to work. She strained to hear individual sounds through the veritable orchestra of her surroundings. She needed to be able to see. Slowly, she felt along the inside of the bag, there were at least two sewn seams on either side of her. Running her fingers along them she decided that they were too strong to be torn open. She felt something metallic running down the center of the bag, a zipper. Reaching up she hooked found the edge of the zipper and slowly pulled it down a quarter of an inch, waiting for the inevitable kick from a guards boot. It never came. Hooking her finger to the outside she slowly undid the zipper from above her head to her waist. Harsh sunlight spilled into the bag and blinded her. Raising a hand up, she rubbed at her eyes. When her vision finally cleared she pushed herself upright, inhaling deeply, and finding the air on the outside just as stifling as within the bag. It was excruciatingly hot, humid and the foul stench of animal feces assaulted her. She choked on the air; caught between the instinctual response to breathe deeply and the urge to zip herself back up to be free of the stench. Anastasia’s eyes widened as she realized that her trappings had been that of a body bag, the type reserved for cadavers headed to the morgue. Those bastards had stuffed her in a body bag. She was overcome with emotion, ranging from anger, to helplessness and one that disturbed her, a sense of being suddenly very much alone. She wished that he was with her now. They had not been apart since their first night in the D.C bar and his absence was terrifying to her. “Where are you, Flint?” Anastasia crossed her arms over her naked breasts. She was still seated in the body bag which offered concealment for her lower half at least. Looking to either side the reason for the stench became apparent. They, whoever they were, had tossed her unceremoniously into what appeared to be an old horse stable. Piles of rotting manure festered in the afternoon heat; flies swirled around the piles of refuse. The dirt floor was covered in a mat of decaying straw and the occasional rat carcass. The walls of the stable were clapboard, and in varying degree of ruin. Missing boards offered a glimpse to the goings on outside, and the tin roof captured the afternoon sun creating an oven effect even with the shade it provided. She had begun to sweat profusely, her hair matted to the sides of her face. Her situation disgusted her, it was the epitome of indignation; naked, alone in a barn of all places, with rotting manure and buzzing flies. Slowly she stood up, careful to stand only on the bag. She was not sure if she wanted to put her foot down on the dirty floor just yet. Again she surveyed the inside of the barn. “I’d give anything for a burlap sack to cover up with right now.” However, no matter how hard she looked nothing useful could be found. Anastasia stepped out of the body bag onto the damp, almost soggy dirty floor and picked up her former means of confinement, turning it inside out and wrapping it around herself like a makeshift shawl. She decided that even the little bit of cover that the bag offered was better than trudging around in the barn naked. Slowly she made her way to one of the slots made from a missing board on the side of the stable and pressed her face close, peering outside. The stable, her prison, was on the outer edge of a small village that by all accounts was being occupied by a military force. She guessed that there were several hundred troops. They were erecting buildings, entrenching heavy weaponry and rousting the local populous. The soldiers looked to be comprised of regular military personnel, as indicated by the red berets and red arm-bands that they wore emblazoned with the insignia of the…….Red Shadow. Her heart sank and suddenly she wanted to retch into the corner of the ramshackle barn. She had been taken by the Red Shadow organization. Panic again began to well up. She stepped back from her vantage point, and spun around quickly as she heard voices approaching. There was no place to hide, and nothing to use as a weapon. Taking a deep breath she wrapped the body bag tightly around herself and stood erect. If nothing else, she was the Baroness Anastasia DeCobray. She winced at the hollow sounding nature of that particular title in her current situation. The door of the bar was kicked open, nearly sending it flying from its hinges. She caught a glimpse of two uniformed guards standing their post at the doorway. She was more concerned however, with the figure in the doorway. “Wilder Vaughn, how dare you subject me to such conditions, I demand to be released immediately. Surely you know my husband will not stand for such actions.” Vaughn pushed a hand through his silver, white hair and with his free hand tapped a swagger stick against his thigh. He was in his forties, but exceptionally well built. It was the kind of build that a man acquired from a regimented, military life. He stepped toward her, his high leather boots sporting a perfect shine. If the heat of the barn bothered him it didn’t show, even dressed as he was in the full military regalia denoting his position of leadership with the Red Shadows. “Shut your whore mouth, Baroness. Surely you don't expect me to believe that Destro cares what becomes you, especially after your recent transgressions with Fairebore. My god, is that man's wife even cold and in the ground yet? We snatched you minutes before a Cobra kill-squad arrived at your hotel. You might say that you are still alive because of me." Defiant as always, Anastasia laughed, “I am still alive, because you need the encryption code, that I possess, in order to unlock your precious data. So pardon me if I find your half-assed attempt at benevolence somewhat questionable.” Vaughn kept idly tapping his thigh with the swagger stick and allowed a wicked smile to form on his lips. “My dear, you will give me that encryption code, or your life won’t be the only thing I take from you in a most savage and ungentlemanly way.” She did not waiver at this threat, and instead stepped towards him, still wrapped in the make-shift cloak. She had no other weapon but her arrogance and she wielded it with an unparralleled precision. “I’ve kept company with some of the most ruthless men on the planet, and they have yet to break me. I seriously doubt you have anything more to offer than idle threats and shiny boots.” She looked down at his feet as to add reinforcement to her statement. She returned her gaze to his eyes. Knowing at the very least that he needed her alive for a while longer. The rage burnt in his eyes, and a pallor of red crept from beneath the collar of his jacket. He moved to strike her so quickly that she was caught entirely off guard. The swagger stick connected just below her temple and she was sent sprawling to the filthy ground of the barn, losing the grip on her cloak. He stepped forward, again raising the crop above his head and slashing savagely down at her naked back. The strike was clean and she felt it rend her flesh. She reached back and felt the sticky blood on her fingertips. Anastasia growled and fought to her knees, her own rage boiling within. His heavily booted heel caught her squarely in the chest, toppling her over backwards onto the feces and straw strew floor. His kick took the fight out of her. She gasped for air, feeling the pain of his strike in her entire body. She lay unmoving, curled on her side, panting and gasping, a clearly defined boot print marring her perfect breasts. He leaned over her body now, speaking in almost a whisper.” Will you give me the codes?” “No” she fought to speak even the single word through her breathlessness. “Very well.” Vaughn stood and straightened his uniform “We will have this discussion again in the morning. I will leave you in the capable hands of my personal guardsmen until then. I’m sure that you will find their company to be the kind of ruthless to which you are accustomed.” Last edited by Flint071; 05-11-2011 at 09:43 PM.. |
05-11-2011, 09:40 PM | #110 |
IG 4 LIFE
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: The last place you would think
Posts: 17,671
|
Unbelievable bro. Love it
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