The lie and how I told it. <<pt.2>> (544 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.2 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by ampersand (View user info) at 2006-06-21 00:45:58 EDT
The 15 minutes that started it: http://www.ubersite.com/m/86823
Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/88879
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Travis' eyes opened hard. Most people's eyes can not be said to open 'hard', but then again Travis is not most people, and his eyes opened very hard at that particular moment. So much adrenaline (natural and synthetic) was pumping through his system though, he didn't notice. He did notice though, two 9mm holes at eye level in the crisp white wall across from him (they were actually 9.22mm and 9.31mm, but they were left there by 9mm rounds). He heard the heart rates of the men around him rise slightly as they escorted him towards the door. He saw the small brown spider in the corner skittering about madly. He felt the slight changes in air pressure as the large man to his front left opened the door. In fact, the way he opened his eyes some few seconds ago was just about the only thing Travis did not notice.
Well truthfully, there were other things he did not notice. He did not, for example, notice the intricate designs of the carpet he was walking on, or the various paintings hanging on the walls around him. Nor did Travis pay any attention to the exquisitely carved marble statue of a blind folded woman carrying in one hand a long sword and the other a set of scales held aloft. Had he noticed these things he would have first let out a low whistle because they were all very, very expensive looking things. He would then have made a clever quip about the irony of a criminal overlord owning a symbol of justice. Or maybe he would have yelled out "Here's some justice for ya!" as he whipped his silver .45s out from under his suit jacket.
Travis did neither of these though, and only partly because his silver .45s were in fact already out from under his suit jacket and spewing hot death at an impressive clip. He also did neither of things because he had already thrown a flashbang and he did not like to waste a clever remark on deaf ears.
The first bullet from each of his pistol's made acquaintance with Mr. Avery's brains, decided they rather did not appreciate their fleshy company, and spilled them all over the thoroughly expensive looking mahogany desk upon which the man was sitting and looking very smug only a few short moments ago. Copious amounts of blood joined the disembodied grey matter on the desk and quickly spread to carpeting.
Each of the next four bullets made similar displays with the heads of the men behind him who were still reeling from the flashbang (three from the ravishingly expensive German sedan as well as the one who opened the door to let him in). That left Travis three more armed men to account for (he made a tally as he was throwing the flashbang) as well as the woman from the bar who was curiously absent (there was no way out of the room beyond the door he entered through which certainly she did not escape out of).
Three gunshots from the opposite side of the room told Travis the flashbang had worn off already. Good. He did not very much like smoke and mirror tactics but the men standing behind made it necessary. Even his four billion dollar alloy muscle system did not afford him the speed necessary to dispatch that many targets from all sides. Fortunately it did afford him the speed necessary to dispatch his last three assailants which he did with ease.
Travis again arrived at a moment which called for a clever remark only to find himself again without an audience. He took his disappointment out on the statue by way of shooting it in the face. A satisfied smile crept slowly across his face, revealing teeth as perfectly white as the marble source of his aforementioned satisfaction.
"Enough child's play Travis, do not linger!" An impatient and decidedly un-clever voice echoed through his mind. Travis was neither un-clever nor schizophrenic though: the voice in question came from a neural link to HQ in his head. He was never actually sure just who the voice belonged to, and it was always the same voice, but that it came from HQ was reason enough to obey it.
Travis walked over to Avery's corpse and searched it. There was nothing in particular that he expected to find, but Mr. Avery was the sort of man who was commonly in possession of very valuable things, expected or not. Travis noticed he was also the sort of man to carry large amounts of cash in his wallet (a quality Travis appreciated very much in the corpses of his targets, despite his generous salary). He pawed the man's other pockets but to no avail.
Perhaps the desk drawers would make up for it? Wait. The window behind the large bush there was open. Travis had not noticed that when he came in. He reprimanded himself silently and walked to the offending window, forgetting for the moment about the desk drawers. A used parachute spread on the ground some forty stories below him told him how the woman from the bar got away. Odd. Why risk breaking your legs with a parachute when you had a perfectly good elevator at your disposal? She did not strike him as the thrill seeking sort.
No, odd was the wrong word. Disturbing was the right one. It was disturbing; had she known all along that Travis wasn't Harrison? Did she know who he actually was? Did she know what he actually was? If she did, then something was very seriously awry.
Soft murmuring in his head indicated that either Travis actually was schizophrenic or the man from was similarly disturbed by the find (among their many other functions, his eyes also worked as cameras for HQ: everything he saw was recorded and stored in a giant mainframe). Travis puzzled over the window a moment more and returned to search the desk.
"Travis do NOT linger!"
"I'm not lingering, I'm looking."
"Well do not look either, you must be away."
Ah ha! This was the sort of thing he was looking for. A large sealed envelope with "CONFIDENTIAL" printed across it in extravagantly bold letters. They may as well just print: "OPEN ME" on it next time as far as Travis was concerned. He broke the seal and began to skim the documents inside. It was a contract between Mr. Avery and an unidentified second party, no doubt another crime lord. But at last some real information: the contract had already been signed. Unsurprisingly, William E. Avery was scrawled sloppily across the first line, in strange contrast to the fine gold ink it was written in. A somewhat more tidy and altogether less gaudy E. D. Thorpe appeared in black on the line below.
No where on the paper did the words Edward or Dale appear, but Travis still knew them to be what the black initials stood for. And the man they represented, Edward Dale Thorpe, was no sort crime lord. He was in fact, a member of an ultra-secret, quasi-government, military research organization. Travis knew this because he was, in fact, a member of the very same organization. And because he had seen that exact signature many times before: Edward Thorpe was his boss. Something was definitely awry.
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Submitted by LisaD (user info) at 2007-05-18 13:41:29 EDT (#)
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Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2006-06-21 19:57:06 EDT (#)
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crash
Submitted by ampersand (user info) at 2006-06-21 19:42:43 EDT (#)
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Well don't everyone rate it at once, you could crash the site.
Submitted by alwayspeach1 (user info) at 2006-06-21 08:34:04 EDT (#)
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Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-06-21 05:52:58 EDT (#)
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Submitted by Sockster (user info) at 2006-06-21 03:59:57 EDT (#)
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I think...