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 Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 2:06 pm
Page 1 Post Navigation >> † A call to start it all - SOLO - {+}
† Special delivery? - SOLO - {+}
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 9:32 pm
x....A call to start it all
-Beeeeeeeeeeeep....Beeeeeeeeeep-
“Ah, Hi! This is ****! Calling to confirm the order for the ******* ***0XX SMG! Yes, this IS ****! What do you mean, I’m not supposed to be a girl? Listen, jerk, I don’t know who you are but I’ve been working for this company for 5 years now, and I’m THE weapons tester! ...what, who? No, that’s me! Hm, I guess you must be new! Hi, nice to meet you! I’m ****, sorry about that jerk comment, let’s be friends, yeah? ...I sound sexy from my voice? Ah, well, I think that’s a little too friendly, buddy. Anyways, the SMG! Hey, are you doing your job or not? ... no, that was a rhetorical question. No, I’m not taking you for an idiot. I just want to know about this gun! No, there is no way this call is being monitored; are you taking me for an idiot? Again, that was a rhetorical question! Listen, my line is absolutely safe...***** gave me the phone! I’ll confirm the product number- your manager? Yay! Is it ****? How’s his arm healing up? Tell him I’m sorry about that, again...ah so you’re finally going to help me out? Cool, I like you already! No, you can’t have my number-SO the crate will be disguised and shipped to my door? Aircraft carrier- got it. The location is **** ******** ** *******. You got that right? If not, they know it. Okay, just wanted to make sure it was getting here alright. I’m so excited to try it out! The last model was brilliant; I can’t wait to try the update! ...what, so now you have to work? Fiiiiine. Thanks for the help, just try not to hit on me next time, okay? We’ll be good friends! Oh yeah, what was your name? ******! Kind of a stuffy name, yeah? ....you’d like to stuff WHAT?”
-click!-
-Beeeeeeeeeeeep....Beeeeeeeeeep-
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Posted: Fri Aug 21, 2009 3:08 pm
x....Special delivery?
“Bokura wo kuromu kono komyunitii. Samishi toki ni aeru tekunorojii! Kitzukenai kurai iijii na kuoritii, Sou da ikou kimi no tokoro ekusutashii!“
Kita was singing over sound of the shower, over the sound of the speakers, and over the sound of the mailman at the door. She was singing really loud; really loud. The mailman could hear her all too clearly. Fortunately for him, the peppy girl had a tolerable voice, and knew how to speak Japanese fluently enough for her to not sound like an excruciatingly uncomfortable j-trance fan girl. The mailman knocked furiously at the door, the only response being more singing.
“HELLOOOOOO,” he shouted, pounding at the door. “IT’S THE MAILMAN!”
Kita, inhabiting her own world with strobe lights in Shibuya, continued singing and washing her hair, completely oblivious to the package that would change her ******** it,” he said finally, signing that her package was accounted for. Grumbling, the lanky mailman heaved the huge metal crate out of the truck, and laid it down gently on her doorstep (even though she was an exceptionally annoying customer, it was still a very fragile package and he was good at his job).
“I should have become a biologist,” he mumbled, getting into his van and driving away from the old house.
Once Kita was sufficiently squeaky clean and all sung out, she emerged from the remarkably hi-tech bathroom (for such an old house, of course) wearing a short bathrobe. If the mailman were still there when Kita finally opened the door, he would have noticed her thin legs, decorated with bruises and children’s band-aids.
“IT’S HERE!” Kita squealed, lifting the crate with much more ease than her tiny body would suggest. Almost trotting, Kita descended the stairs, only stopping to verify her fingerprints, optic code and DNA swab. “Ooooceeeliiiittllleee,” she sang to the audio receptor, which was the final key to the exceptionally complicated lock system.
In the unassuming, quaint old house in the somewhat assuming neighborhood near the arid desert, in the basement of the most unassuming yet very mysterious young woman was a holding ground for the world’s most dangerous experimental weapons. And Kita C. Bourkes was testing them-- with much pleasure, mind you. Kita placed the crate on the stainless steel slab of a table in the spotless white room, covered in miscellaneous guns, launchers, swords, lasers, bombs—what have you. Kita took a moment to admire her collection, doing a full 360 in the room illuminated by blue toned lights, coating everything in a cool, metallic tinge. The only colour break from the room’s blue glow were the multicoloured paper cranes hung from hooks in the ceiling, or empty gun racks.
Kita sighed happily and rested her cheek against the palm of her hand, enjoying a little moment of joy to be where she was.
“Right!” she said loudly, clapping her hands together as if to literally snap herself out of it. “The new SMG!”
She quickly turned to face the huge metal crate before her. Kita reached out to open it when she noticed some very obvious implications of something gone horribly wrong. Cocking her head to the side for a moment, Kita began to examine the package that was obviously not from X-corp. Primarily, it had the wrong dimensions for the SMG, and was not disguised well at all. There were no markings to imply it was from the company, and most importantly it was blatantly suspicious.
“What the...” the woman muttered, reaching towards the crate, and detaching a small flier from the side of the metal box. “The Liberty Center?”
Kita put down the flier, a sense of curiosity and confusion overpowering her initial excitement. She moved around to the back of the crate to find where it opened: a latch would cause the door to slide up. Kita pursed her lips, aching to open it yet obviously wary of the entire situation. Kita quickly grabbed an explosives scanner from the other side of the table and waved it over the crate.
Organic matter?
The young weapon specialist’s heart raced as she unlocked the latch and slid the door up...
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