More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V

[East Coast Hustle]

Well, if that's what you want to read into it, feel free. I left it that ambiguous on purpose.


Also, it was all I could do not to end it with "and then she got eaten by a grue."

[Jenne]

The tunnels were filthy and smelling of soot, smoke and feces.  I don't know if I'd ever smelled anything worse in my entire life, and I've been in some pretty fucking shitty areas in the world.

After spending the night on someone's couch in a safe house run by Payne's uncle, I got a text from Payne telling me a taxi would come and take me to where one of his "Sue" (short for suicide) groups was currently fighting back the London Menace the Payneites were calling "Nessies."  I'd read varying reports on what the hell they were, how they attacked, and what held them back.  No one could use firepower down below because of the explosions it would cause.

I guess in America we were lucky because we were fighting above ground.  Our C4 only seemed to make so much headway, though, and that gas that Payne and Pixie were on about last night...it just hadn't done as much as we'd thought when the lab guys from Quantico shipped it out two weeks ago.  

I tried to get a hold of Crazy Eddie to clarify what the fuck he was on about with the "wrong suits" and the gas.  Damn my hide for being too impatient to ask him what that shit meant—and now he'd gone underground, deeper than before.  I had an outgoing message to him through the usual contacts, but I'd probably have to hunt him down myself if I was going to find the wily bastard.

The tunnels were not that wide—I guess the original engineers of the London underground didn't think there needed to be more than a 3-man-wide space between the walls.  The place smelled of death, everywhere.  I had lowered myself in through a manhole off of Pall Mall, sometime around oh-seven hundred.  While the daylight was just beginning, the tunnels never stopped raging.  Their dark deathly depths were full of chaos, mayhem, and the cries of men as they met their last.

I followed the "lieutenant" down the manhole, and we were met by four men, all dressed in what looked like moon-jumping suits, holding swords that looked like a military-version of a Samurai sword, or katana.  One of them was also carrying two duffel bags, and it looked like they had suits in them when he unzipped them.  I got into one, pulling it over my leather jacket and jeans.  I'd traded my Western style boots for black jackboots, and I was glad I'd thought to leave the Stetson at the safe house.

The "lieutenant" put his suit on, and nodded to me.  He'd told me at the manhole up top that we'd use limited communication until we were "in the hole," meaning, where no digitized or radioed communication could get in or out.  The men down there had apparently been carrying small tape recorders, so they had been recording communiqués and reports periodically.  Sometimes the reports made it out for transcription and distribution, and sometimes...well, no one knew.  But you could make a fair guess.

We turned and headed to the right of the manhole, back towards the center of the city.  The reports had said last week that the Payneites had taken heavy casualties near the midrange of the London inner city section, but that the actual numbers were obscured.  I was hoping we'd be luckier than the men I'd been reading about—those who'd come out and survived were often taken for mental patients, so altered they were in just split seconds of an attack.

I smelled smoke through the mask on my helmet, and it sounded like we were coming upon some action.  I was right—shit was going down not five hundred feet from the first turn we took through the tunnels.  And it was not looking pretty.

I heard a shout and someone shoved me from behind.  I took my bearings quickly and unsheathed the long sword they'd given me, crouching slightly so as to not lose my footing again in case I was bumped.  It was very dark, and from what I could make out, several Payneites were fighting a shadowy mass—grunts, screams and the clang of the weapons were all I could hear.

The "lieutenant" turned at my side and said urgently,"Sir, you have to move back.  We have strict orders—"

"I don't give a good goddamn about your orders, I am not here to be killed, dammit, I'm just going to watch my ass, now go watch your own."

I wasn't going to have any of that.  I came to the tunnels of my own free will, I was going to fight if needed.

Suddenly, there was a break in the action, and before I could raise the sword and get in there, it was over.  Whatever it was had fled when it saw the Payneites who'd been fighting had gotten reinforcements.  The "lieutenant" went over to the Sues and told one of his men to get out his medic kit and triage.  I walked over to him and looked around.  There was blood, and some strange sweet, sickly smell as well.

One of the wounded kids who survived looked up from where he was propped up against the wall, his comrade binding his shoulder.  "They came at us in a full run this time, Sir.  I don't know how many of them there were.  We were on our way to a rendezvous point, and I think they meant to come after that manhole you just came down.

The "lieutenant" sighed.  "Very well then, we'll regroup on further down at the rendezvous point.  We have a special guest here, and he needs to see our plans."

The Payneite soldier muttered "Yessir" and then a sharp intake of breath as spasm of pain rocked him.

We picked up those who could still walk and left others who had fallen behind with a couple of guards to wait for help.  I asked the "lieutenant" how soon the help would actually get there.

"It depends on how fast the messenger we sent can go, and whether or not he's waylaid." At this he turned and looked at me, and I could see by his eyes that plenty of messengers had been "waylaid."

"I see," and I quit talking until we came to the rendezvous.  This whole situation was fucked.
...

"You want me to do WHAT?" I asked incredulously.  "I don't think so.  That's fucking ridiculous.  I'm here to look around, I'm here to get a sense of what's needed.  You know I saw Payne himself last night—"

"Sir, sir, calm down," urged the "commander" that was in charge when we finally reached the rendezvous.  The Payneites had put together some sort of office down here, and it had cell block structures complete with locking gates and the whole shebang.  The "commander" and the "lieutenant" had both sat me down, handed me a whiskey, and told me that they needed me to help stop the media.  They thought this thing had one fighting chance—and that was ultimate silence until they found a campaign strategy that was working.

"You see sir," the "lieutenant" started back up again, standing up suddenly and using a tone that suggested I was being unreasonable, "the more people know about what's going on down here, the more they want to come here and see for themselves.  We have enough to deal with watching our own asses, we can't be responsible for the damned media's too!"

His voice rose on that last bit and the "commander," an older gent, put his hand firmly yet gently on the younger man's arm, which seemed to calm him down again.  The "lieutenant" sat back down in his chair, looking a bit spent.

"What my lieutenant's trying to tell you, Sir," started the "commander," turning and looking me full in the face, "is that we're a bit desperate, and the media's not helping our situation at all.  I believe Mr. Payne explained to you what you Yanks have been able to manufacture seems like a godsend to us.  You have already seen what we're up against.  We need your help."

I sat back in my chair, thinking.  I didn't think any of the top brass was behind this decision, but I couldn't know for sure.  I had no idea who these Brit yahoos were, but I know they felt their mission was on the side of justice, which feeling I knew all too well.  I decided not to promise anything, I'm not in the habit of writing checks with my mouth that my ass couldn't catch.

"Gentlemen, I'll definitely think about it.  For now, though, I was told that you had some information for me about the creatures you're fighting.  I'm supposed to be comparing notes so that, in the event this gas does work, we can see how it's most effective."

The "commander" watched me carefully as I said this, raised his brows, and shrugged.  I think he realized he was barking up the wrong tree.  "Yes," he replied, standing as he did so, "let's go into the command room and get you those plans Mr. Payne told you about."

After that, I was given the plans, a copy had been made for me, apparently, and then escorted back to the manhole, with one pause at the point where we saw the skirmish. Although there was still evidence of a struggle, there were no soldiers in uniforms and no "creatures" to be seen, either.  I guess the messenger had been successful, this time.

[East Coast Hustle]

Oh, and anything I post in this thread only is Kopyleft with attribution to my real name.

Okay, but I'm using it "by permission", which means the original authors keep all rights with the exception of the rights to my publication itself which, as I have said, will wind up with 100% of any profits going directly to PD upkeep, no matter what happens.

Unless it blows the fuck up, in which case I'll distribute funds in a fair and equitable manner that 169% guarantees lawsuits and screaming and blood on the walls.



(Just kidding.  It all goes to PD.  If they make a movie about it, we'll just buy Ireland to use as a server room.)

Even better. I'm OK with you hacking it up and doing nefarious things with it. I was a little squeamish about giving ANYONE an opening to do that.

[The Wizard]

Well, if that's what you want to read into it, feel free. I left it that ambiguous on purpose.

That's what I got from it at least. Also,

Also, it was all I could do not to end it with "and then she got eaten by a grue."

There goes my soda. Nice job, ECH.

[Cainad (dec.)]

So, that's what the Nessies are doing with the folks they capture. Interesting...plot thickening and all that.

Could also just be what happens when the larvae hatch from their cocoon...awake, aware, and fully functional within minutes.

[The Wizard]

Could also just be what happens when the larvae hatch from their cocoon...awake, aware, and fully functional within minutes.

Yeah, that could also be the case. That was just the first thing that popped into my head. ECH left it vague, so there's a couple ways it could be interpreted. Though, I think your idea is less of a stretch.

Also, Jenne, really nice work!

[Jenne]

Thankee...still working on the last bits...I think I have like 2-3 more chapters.

[The Wizard]

Thankee...still working on the last bits...I think I have like 2-3 more chapters.

Can't wait to see them!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

It's got the perfect amount of vague.  Leave as is.

[Don Coyote]

So, that's what the Nessies are doing with the folks they capture. Interesting...plot thickening and all that.

Could also just be what happens when the larvae hatch from their cocoon...awake, aware, and fully functional within minutes.

Or after being shoved through a tear through time and space.

[Eater of Clowns]

**Recording.  Tunnel 9 Gymnasium.  6/23/13 0900**

"This is the fucking gym!?"

"Hayes?  What are you doing here?"

"I told you the other day, I'm trying to keep my nerves down.  Makes sense, really, I used to enjoy walking so I might as well keep doing it.  Even if it is in place.  Never saw the use in that topside but I guess when the alternative is Tunnel 13 I'll settle for this."

"Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Poor choice of words, given our predicament.  How have I never been here before?  Seen what a sorry state this is.  Did they actually bring this stuff down to the sewers because it looks like they just found it as is and decided to make the best of it."

"Heavy objects and stationary walkways, what more do you need?"

"Could stand to gaze at a finer arse than yours, for one."

"So how's the late shift?"

"What late shift, I work seven to three now."

"They moved you?"

"Nah, see, I figure if we're down in this pit there isn't much use for thinking of time by daylight.  So I work seven to three, and you work seven to three, it just happens that there's an eight hour difference between your seven to three and mine."

"A bit strange."

"Like I said, trying to be healthier.  Working seven to three, I can wake up, go work my shift, have a quick bite and then come to the gym, running into a fine co-worker like yourself, Palmer.  Seeing one of those psychiatrists they've got down here, voluntary rather than mandatory like the servoheads.  Learning French."

"Get the fuck off, learning French?"

"Knew you were a smart one.  And quite an early riser, I see, it's what, one in the morning for you?"

"No, Hayes, it's nine, like it is for everyone else, and the Paynites, you know, who run the place?"

"Ah me and the Paynites have another thing to disagre on then."

"Speaking of which.  I hear you spoke with the Chaplain?"

"Don't worry, they don't know anything about the plan.  They wanted me to - hey, Palmer.  What do you do during your down time at work?"

"My particular seven to three happens to be very busy, but they've got me reviewing vids when there isn't a team out."

"What kinds of vids?"

"Scout, mostly.  You want to talk about the Templars being crazy.  These fuckers jump in cold.  They run topside, see, no armor so they don't raise suspicions.  Usually younger guys, fast ones.  Go up above with a list of locations, make sure they aren't spotted, and jump right into the nearest manhole, grate, whatever leads to the sewers."

"Fuck off, that's nuts.  Do they ever make it out?  How have I not heard about this?"

"We've got some good ones, but yeah, we lose them.  And if you think it ain't pretty what Nessies do to armor.  Thing is, they don't talk about the scouts because the scouts go above.  It's quite an enviable job, you'll have to admit, being able to walk about like a normal person."

"And that's where your info comes from.  Palmer I'm starting to think you're a clever bastard and it's frightening.  Speaking of which, what's the latest word?"

"It's like we aren't even trying.  Got the odd press coming down to investigate, but that's on account of the locals getting their attention."

"No government, then?"

"When's the last time you got any official attention?"

"Aside from the police?"

"I think we're better off getting some involvement down here if we elect a Nessie to Parliament.  I think the Paynites have a bit more pull than we thought."

"Let's find out.  Next time you talk to your scout, get him in touch with the press again.  This time, don't even talk about the Nessies.  Have them look into the Paynites - they're big, but they're local.  Tell them to follow the money.  Follow the fucking money.  Find out how a new little church can pay us bastards and outfit a bunch of servoheads in this high tech stuff.  Maybe if we can find their seat of power we can put a lever on it to get some actual armies down here to wipe these Nessies out."

"That's the thing, Hayes, about that runner.  Didn't make it back from the last mission."

"Rotten luck."

"I'm not sure.  Before this guy I had another contact, and the day after one meeting he got torn up on a run.  Got me thinking.  What if they're sending the ones I'm involved with to the dangerous drop-ins?  Don't know if I can be responsible for any more of them."

"If they know about you, then you'd be the one that got attacked."

"Yeah, but maybe it's not me, maybe they're seeing the contacts they're having above.  I just don't know, Hayes."

"There has to be a way to get to the media.  Think about it, government troops down here instead of mercenary rejects.  What chance would the Nessies have?"

"Bugger it.  I just don't think it's worth it."

"Not sure I follow."

"Hayes.  You ever thought about leaving?"

**End Recording**

[Eater of Clowns]

Semaj, I used Frye's name here because I like the name and I was looking to keep the cast down.  I'll gladly change if that's not alright.

[East Coast Hustle]

Love where it seems like your story arc is going, EoC!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I'd like to invoke the Thieves' World Rule:

You can use - but not use up (without permission) - each others' characters.

Please do try to keep them IN character, though.

[Juana]

I support this. Carol Lawrence, if anyone needs a frightened biologist, is up for use. And my post is kopyleft/whatever.