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Sunday, April 20, 2008

The Cypher's Tale 25 Alt 1

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She had kept them stalled past sundown.

Micah fidgeted in a corner under the iron sights of a square faced bottle blond. Brenda stood in the center of her living room, hands above her head. A sandy haired man stared at her over a machine gun. A young male lay on a sofa, pushed against the wall, staring at the ceiling, breathing blood. His neck was swathed in bandages.

There was a knock on the door. "That you?"
Negative.
The sandy haired man backed toward the door. He motioned the blond to cover Brenda, and then turned the door handle.

It blew open (again). A high pitched rattle sent gouts of blood spraying from the sandy man's back. Tyson stepped left and fired his machine pistol at the blond. Fourteen 8mm balls severed her thumb and buried into her breast. She swung her carbine toward him, but Tyson stepped right and held the sandy haired corpse between them. The blond collapsed onto knees and elbows, struggling to raise her weapon, but rich arterial blood flowed over it. She collapsed on her face in an indecorous position.

Tyson dropped the 70 kilo bloody rag and scanned the apartment. Micah goggled at him. He stepped inside, releasing the pistol to hang at his hip by its bandolier.

"That all?"
"Sir! What's going on?" She lowered her hands. The purple dress was torn. Her eye was black and swollen.
"HQ attacked. You didn't respond to accountability."
"No, they jammed the place. I managed to stall them though."
Tyson nodded and dragged the bodies into the center of the floor. He rolled the blond over and shook his head.
"Shit, my carpet is ruined."
"Momma-"
"Not now, honey."
In the light of the apartment, among the baroque furnishings, Tyson looked as bad as his latest opponents. His face and arms wore soot on burns on burn scars. Blood soaked his T-shirt and khaki cuffs. His hands were cut.

Tyson drew the blade from his left hip and raised it above the tender young- his own age- male on the couch. Ice blue eyes opened wide, and tried to roll away, but the blade came down and severed his head completely. Tyson pulled the nihonto from the sofa cushion and wiped it on one of the dry spots on his pants.
"ah... Sir?"
"The blade has no name. Consider it a wakizashi. The long handle gives more power in close quarters." He spoke in a flat, almost tinny voice.
"Are you..."
Tyson turned to the door. "When you're secure, try to find the boss. I'm counterattacking." He set the PDA from his wrist on an end table with a purse and eye patch. "Broke. Give it to Daniel."

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