PROLOGUE PART IV : Traitor(yes, according to the book we aren't out of the prologue yet, I'll be keeping track of progress using this from now on. Mechanics are useless here as long as we have a die and magick logic)
Before the group continues, they sit around and talk while soldier and Sheldon finish up gathering their gear. Sheldon grabs an Ithaca that was in the trunk and Soldier gets a Mag-10 Roadblocker from the trunk as well.
"Thats a scary fucking gun," Sheldon says. "You expecting something in there besides Mr. Bittern and his card sharp buddies?"
You just watch my ass, Shelly. Let me worry about the big scary monsters, okay?" She then turns to the direction you are all standing and says "That goes for you all too. Simple mission, get in, kill the sons a bitches, and then leave. Got it?" You all nod and the group sets out through the rainy night and begin the rest of the trek to the house.
The scenery begins to change and the ground goes from gravel to mud and tall grass. You all head off to where you can now see a porch. The wind and rain is at this point getting a bit stronger. You can make out what happens when soldier goes to touch the door handle, but it appeared that some gold colored electricity jumped out of it. "Fuck this" She hisses and then makes a small protective charm. She grabs the door handle and the door swings open. She pumps the shotgun once and steps into the door and points it into the first thing that moves.
A skinny, redheaded boy in a Sex Pistols T-shirt stares back at her from the other end of the Roadblocker. He drops the serving tray he's carrying and five or six mugs and a couple shot glasses shatter when it hits the floor, spraying beer and whiskey at her feet.
"On your fucking knees, faggot," She snaps at him, and a second later the boy's spread out on the roadhouse floor with all that beer and broken glass. Soldier swings the shotgun and takes aim at the table where Joey Bittern and Quaker Jameson and two others have all put down their playing cards and drinks and are watching her. One of the's a morning gaunt, perched there on a bar stool, and the other, seated across the table from the gaunt, is an orchid-skinned demon smoking a cigar and looking about twice as pissed of as anything she's ever had the misfortune to come across
"You told us the door was locked" the demon said. "You'd also said that we'd hear her coming, and you never said anything about there being that many with her!"
There was no reply, nothing rolling back from Sheldon's mind to hers, and Joey Bittern grins like a cartoon wolf and lights a cigarette. He's a big man, half Portuguese, half Narragansett Indian, one hundred percent asshole, and he blows a smoke ring at the rafters supporting the high ceiling.
"Your fifteen minutes late, Soldier," he says and pretends to check a nonexistenet wristwatch. "What held yo up, Mr. Vale? You miss that turn again?" "Put your fucking hands down on the fucking table," Soldier says. "All of you. Now!
"See,I'm thinking this game's a little steep for your tastes, sweetmeats," Bittern says and blows another smoke ring at the ceiling. "I'm thinking you talk like a big dog, but when the chips are down-if you'll excuse the pun-you got nothing t bring to the table but talk.
The two keep arguing back and forth, and the demon repeats himself. The other one begins to look nervous as the event unfolds. Then you hear it. "Oh I'm back here Soldier girl," Sheldon replies, "but think you should listen to the man". You all see and hear the click of soldier's gun, an empty, hollow click. None of you make a move to help, or to harm.
"Very thoughtful, Mr. Vale" Bittern says. "Its good to see your the dependable sort. An eye for details and all that." The morning gaunt makes a gurgling sound that's probably meant to be laughter. The air between her and the card table has begun to shimmer and twist back upon itself, like heat rising from blacktop on a summer's day, and so she knows the four at the table have been removed from the reach of bullets, anyway. "Shelly" Soldier says, speaking as calmly as she can as she can still manage, "do you even begin to have and idea how much shit you're in?"
You just met me worry about that," he tells her
"Well said, Mr. Vale," Joey Bittern mumbles around the filter of his cigarette. "You're a man of few words, but you can choose them well."
"Did you learn that from a fucking fortune cookie?" Soldier asks, her eyes moving quickly from Bittern to the orchid-colored demon to Jameson to the gurgling night gaunt. "Give him a chance, he'll talk your goddamn ear off. Ain't that right, Shelly?"
How about we cut the fuckin' la-di-da chitchat," the demon scowls, "kill the changling bitch, and get back to the game? Or maybe, Joey, you think all this drama's going to make me forget how far in the hole you are?"
See, Soldier? Some people just aren't capable of savoring the moment." Bittern laughs and shakes his head. "they always have to be rushing things. Some people"-and he glares at the demon"They just don't quite appreciate the sheer, astounding elegance of deceit done right."
"Whatever they decide to do with you, Shelly" Soldier says, reaching into her jacket for the 9mm, "I just hope it's going to hurt for a long, long time."
Soldier begins to hear Valerie scream, cut off by a gunshot. She hears more shots, stopping only a second later. She hears the Ithaca fire, the thunder of the shotgun ringing in her ears.
There was no more than a foot between the muzzle of the shotgun and Soldier, and it tears through her easy as a hot knife through butter...
...and she's stumbling, falling toward the demon's shimering bulletproof barrier, driven forward by the force of the blast...
...and the wet spray of blood and bone and mangled entrails moving out before her, the hot lead opening her like a butcher's prize sow, like a bouquet of bloodflowers, like Noah's goddamn fourty-day flood...
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Topic: Roll of the Hounds! - A DoH RTD: PROLOGUE PART IV : Traitor (Read 8826 times)