Max M. wrote:

  "Put this on."

"But what am I going to do wearing a body length condom?"

  "Okay I'll- Woah!

Whoa (I think)

  "You know, you can be executed for wearing these.

Ah, so they're plaid golfers pants, eh?

As in

like, on the spot. Police Chief sees this, Pop! we're dead."

  "Yeah, well I don't think impersonating cops is the worst
thing on either one of our records.

"How dare you bring that up! Besides, I was drunk, it was dark, and the
sheep looked just like my ex-girlfriend."

  "That's how it usually goes. People who make it to code-
four don't last very long. God damn next-door neighbors rat em
out or they get caught in a subway audit. It's always some stupid
shit, if not getting bounty hunted.

The state allows bounty hunting? I wouldn't think they would allow anyone
outside the system to wield that kind of authority.

  "No," Chris said, and grinned a little. "It means it is now
illegal not to kill me. You could be prosecuted for sitting there, and
not trying to attack me. That some shit, or what?"

Heh. Now that's a hell of a crime to be hit with.

  "Yeah, it's part of a citizen civic-duty clause. Children
included. I'm a code-five, baby."

  Fly thought about this until his brain stalled. "Damn. I want
to be a code-five..."

Gotta have goals.

  Donning their black-market blues, Chris and Fly pulled up
to a camouflage tarp-covered checkpoint and waved badges which
let them pass into an outdoor parking garage. The shear

sheer

number of

cops meant that their supposedly 'undercover' dark green Ford
Cobra would probably go unnoticed. Maneuvering around Special
Forces agents in combat armor, they made their way to the top
level, which sat in open air, five stories above the street. The spot
offered a perfect view of the government building it faced, and
they would be relatively out of the way if fighting did break out.

Trapped, but out of the way.

  Chris reclined his seat, and pulled out binoculars.

  After a minute he said, "I see them. Over there by the
urban-green tank. Linn is with them too and they have Screw
propped against a mailbox. I had doubts that Zig could even make
it out of Ventiss by himself." Or Screw for that matter, Chris
thought. That bastard better not have slowed down in his old age.

Why would Chris be concerned with that?

  Fly settled further into his seat, and flipped through radio
freqs.

I'd spell it out as frequencies. It looks better.

  "And since you had routed everyone to the other two
targets before we even got here, you knew they knew?"

Line break.

  The moon was out, not in view, but reflected off of

can drop that 'of'

some of

the building's higher windows. It was a bare crescent, almost ready
to disappear, by

not sure if you need that comma

 tomorrow or the next night for sure. That might be

interesting. With no moon, the lunatics out here would have lost
their solid beacon of deranged rapt attention.

I somehow doubt all of them focus on it. :)

  Then the entire mass yelled out at once. The wave-like
shriek swept over him and out into the straggling lines still
approaching the scene as they all looked up. All of them, with open
eyes and mouths. It was almost deafening, but not loud enough to
cover up the sound of something large exploding about a hundred
yards away. When it was apparent that there was not going to be a
stampede,

My that's a surprise. These people must have been ready for just about
anything.

  "-The fuck did you do?!" yelled Zig over the sudden roar of
guns and car engines.

Linn: Pressed the button that below the big red sign that said 'Do Not Press
This Button.' Who'd have thought they were telling the truth.

  She gripped his arm. "Nothing! I saw two spiderbats land
on the roof of a parking garage!

Oops.

  "And you are going to bring Screw?" she asked in her
slight accent.

It was an Irish accent, ironically enough.

  On the other hand, the five story concrete parking garage
that opposed it was not such an accomplishment.

Having been erected by a couple of drunken CPAs and a monkey.

Being enclosed

by low ceilings and high volumes of cars, yet open to the air, it was
a perfect play place for a twenty-foot flying freak of nature. Zig
parked my

Oh? I wasn't aware it was Screw who was making these observations at this
point. Might want to make that clearer early on.

  A gray and black tank rumbled past a tightly locked group
of boys burning a public access screen, aimed its cannon, and let
loose a cloud of noxious smoke. A whistle and a loud sonic boom
staggered the closest civilians. The shell put a fifteen foot crater in
the wall of the garage,

I would think it more likely a fifteen foot hole unless those are seriously
thick walls.

 but Zig could still hear the spiderbat

thrashing around, bleating with intensity. He pushed through the
mass of cops and civilians to a better vantage point where he could
see its great black frame smashing entire cars with insectile legs. It
bit a Special Forces officer in half when he started firing his
handgun, and swallowed most of the upper body

Spiderbat: Oddly, he didn't taste like chicken at all.

.. More officers

fired from behind the cover of cars, but fled as soon as it came
whiffling their way.

Smart boys. They'll stay alive longer that way.

  Zig figured he and Linn had better move soon, before the
spiderbat was killed, and the pigs returned to their riot lines. This
was a pretty random thing, and Zig could not remember the last
time he had seen one land in such a crowded area. It was some
coincidence, but was stacked in his favor, so he didn't question it.

Smart man,though even if he did question it it wouldn't make a bit of
difference. :)

  Behind him, the rioting civilians screamed at the tops

Just 'top' would do,I think

of

their lungs as the police turned away from, and temporarily
ignored them. They threw bottles, jumped on cars, broke down
signs and some openly inhaled illegal drugs.

Ah, just like the hometown of the last winning Super Bowl team. Isn't it
ironic how in any championship game the cities of the losing team deal with
things better than the cities that win. What is the logic behind that
anyway? If we win, we riot. And if we lose, we go home. Great philosophy. :)

A woman who had

taken off all of her clothes and was

Drop the 'and'

him and helping him move quietly and composed. Their faint
smiles and occasional voices telling him exactly what to do with
no interruptions. Zig had often wondered why it never seemed to
be this easy for Screw or any of the other white's

whites

  Grinning imperceptibly he recited: Finding Chris means
finding Alethea, and the old woman, and then figuring out what the
hell they were going to do.

  He had the desire to smoke.

So he set himself on fire.

  An attack had to be out of the question for now, since the
Special Forces obviously had a damn good idea of what was going
down.

Ha! That's what he thinks.

the middle of the world's highest cop-to-Zigwell ratio was not the
safest place, but crowds like these provided another kind of
privacy. With so many people around, no one could pay any
attention to one thing for long.

True

 >

  "You're always supposed to take the injured to safety. I'm
doing that."

  "You tryin to do my job?"

Zig: I'd need a donut to do that.

  "Okay, hold on." Zig kicked the fat cop in the gut, but the

figure remained unconscious. "Bite it, Friday," he muttered.
Bending down, he also took the wallet and sidearm. Police issue
anything was gold on the market, and all of that,

don't think you need that comma

  "By the way, where do you hide that toy sword?"

  "It's an ancient antique

'ancient antique' seems redundent. I'd use one or the other, but not both/

  "So where would the medical supplies be?"

  "In the Infirmary," she said. "Most likely on one of the top
floors. But there will probably be a scheme

schematic?

 >

  "You'll be fine."

  "And what if I'm seen? Are you just gonna continue on by
yourself?"

Linn: Of course, otherwise you wouldn't be doing your job as cannon fodder
correctly.

  "The old bastard never mentioned you. Either way, since
I'm gonna be doing all the work here, I want to how

know how (I think is what you meant)

  Zig went into the hall, and tried to look like he was
supposed to be there. Which was hard, since it was now after
midnight, and he was dressed in formal Zig dress: ironed canvas
jeans, light leather jacket, unlaced shit-kickers, and a bulge under
his left armpit.

He really needed to do something about that zit.

  Zig took me into the room, and laid me out on a freshly
cleaned gurney. Then he and Linn went about looking for anything
they thought might help. She came back with an IV plug, and a
pair of bags.

and a butt plug. It was times like these I really wished my mind was as
unconscious as the rest of my body.

  They found a small fridge in the kitchen, but it was empty.
Zig said he had remembered seeing on the building scheme that
there were penthouses on the top floor. Any suite would have food
and drink, and might be the best place to hide out until they came
up with a plan. Wheeling me out into the hall, Zig and Linn got in
another elevator and hit the button for the top floor. A small
electronic message appeared, and stated that they needed the
password to get to that floor. So Zig punched the keypad out of its
housing, and the elevator complied.

Good man. it's what I would have done.

  When the doors finally opened, they stepped out into some
of the nicest private living quarters either one had ever seen. There
was a pool, pool tables, a bar, and a

vomitorium. It had everything.

  Walking around the statue in the center of the main room,
he strolled toward the kitchen. It was so quiet

I'd drop the 'so'

ties. Their faces were those of old men, already deformed with
hard age. And their hands; dead white skeletons with fingernails
that cut off six inches from the tip, unquestionably sharp and
synthetic. Together, the one smaller one mimicked the larger in a
bizarre farce.

My, haven't seen one of those yet. Now let's see what they are.

  Then the other one raised his face to Zig's; an ugly, lumpy
face, and said in a clearer, deeper tone that shook him in his
bowels, "Rufius."

And they just happened to be in this room? Heh. Wonder how long they've been
followinf Screw.

  Absolutely nothing stirred.

  Zig didn't know what to do. They

The

  Linn's expression stopped him, and she said in a small
voice, "I'm really sorry."

Oops. He's in trouble now.

  Zig reached inside his jacket for the Beretta he had taken
off me earlier. Rufius remained motionless, but White raised his
face. As Zig held it up to fire, the barrel suddenly twisted in the air,
and tied itself in a knot.

Now that takes talent.

  There was only one other door on the hallway aside from
the stairwell, and Zig ran through it without reading the sign on the
handle. He busted into another similarly-embellished penthouse
suite, and this one also happened to be occupied. By women, in
fact.

I'm assuming he did leave Screw's body behind? I'm not sure if that was
clear enough.

  "Screwtape

His full nickname is Screwtape?

  "ALL of you die one day..." he said, as if he were choking
out the words. "Today or tomorrow... Rufius cares not."

Linn: Then he won't mind it being tomorrow, so ciao, I've got to go.

  He acted ambiguous, yet they both knew that Rufius
hated Zigwell's kind the most of all.

My my my. What a cliffhanger to end on. You're very naughty, you are. Will
get to more as I'm able. Nice to see things still moving at a breakneck
pace.

D.B. Sommer

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