Deadshot #1. Bulletproof or: How I learned to always carry an extra bullet.
-Cover concept: Trixie in street clothes between two mirrors; The right one shows her in her magician's attire (hat and cape, wearing dark blue tuxedo), smiling cheerfully and waving her hat over her head. The left mirror displays Trixie wearing military training clothes, tainted in dark red, with her Deadshot helmet under her left arm while lighting a cigar with her right one, eyes closed and a grim expression.
***
Ah, Las Pegasus. I mostly love this city but there are some days where I would take every single gun I own and open fire against anything that moves.
Today being one of those days.
*KRAKOOM!*
Here's a fun fact about Las Pegasus; it's in the bloody desert, so there aren't too many cloud to make it rain. So, instead of draining every cloud they find, the pegasi from the weather team (the drunkest weather team in Equestria, I must add) collect clouds all the year and let them all go in one single season of monsoons.
When it rains in Las Pegasus, it pours in Las Pegasus.
"Up with your hands! Up with your f*cking hands!"
Of course, I take Sonata out to celebrate another good hit and it starts to rain. And of course, we enter a Kwik-e-Mart to buy some ice cream on the way home and it's being robbed.
If I had a bit for every time something like this happens, I wouldn't need to be Deadshot.
"Now, no one moves or I swear to Celestia I'll f*cking kill you all!"
All the other customers are lined against the nearest wall, looking scared and helpless against the three almighty jackasses armed with a gun, a shotgun and a knife.
Who the hell brings a knife? I mean, seriously?
Meanwhile, Sonata and I are looking for peanut butter ice cream. You wouldn't believe how much fish-girl loves it.
"This good?" I hold up a half-litre tub.
"Yay!" Sonata hops over to my side, looking at the tub as if it was made of gold.
"You two!" The one with the shotgun yells at us. "Get your motherf*king asses right here and put your f*cking hands in the air! Now!"
"Please!" I hear a female voice. It's a zebra, being held down by the idiot with the knife. "Please, do as they say, I have a daughter."
A knife, a bloody knife. What was that idiot even thinking?
"Oh, a daughter. The zebra b*tch has a daughter." The idiot laughs and puts the knife right over the zebra's neck.
I ignore the three stooges, and Sonata and I walk up to the counter to pay for the ice cream. The guy there is a zebra too. Oh, I see, a family business.
"Trixie, do you think we should do something?" Sonata asks me.
"Nah, not our problem." I look at the guy behind the counter "I'll take the ice cream and a pack of cigarettes, please." I set the ice cream in the counter while looking for money. Where did I leave that wallet? I eventually find it and put the ten bits I have on the counter but the guy’s is too busy trembling to take them.
"But Trixie, I think they really want us to raise our hands. For realsies," Sonata almost squeals.
I'm about to tell her again that it's not our business but the guy with the gun beats me.
"Didn't you hear my f*cking voice, deadmare?!" He's right behind me. "You'll die if you don't put your damn hands in the air!" He presses the gun against my head. As always, the cold metal is soothing.
Or it would be if this guy knew what to do with it. Instead this idiot is trembling and I can feel it. Oh, bad move.
"Sonata, hold that thought."
When I began to get serious about this hitmare thing, I found out that I couldn't rely solely on the weapon, so I took some classes in self-defence. The words of my old sensei, Empty Hand, echo in my head as I turn and break the nose of the thug behind me before relieving him of his gun.
"You bloody amateurs!" I scream before smashing his head against the counter. "You want to rob a store? I don't care.” I bounce his face off the counter again. “You want to rob me... Fine!" I haul him up and crack him between the eyes with the butt of his automatic. "But you'll respect the bloody gun!"
“Hey! What the f*ck, lady!” the one with the shotgun yells, beginning to point it at me. Without even hardly looking, I put two rounds into the shotgun right next to where his hands are, disabling the gun and knocking it from his grasp. Knife-boy is too stunned at what’s going on to move.
I shake the would-be thief I’m holding by his shirt, trying to keep him from passing out from all my abuse. "First, you stand straight and put the gun where the target can see it.” I swing the gun up and point it at the bewildered zebra behind the counter. “He moves, he dies. Clear?
"Second, you speak slow and calm, so he can understand." I look up and read the zebra’s shirt; it says Adam. Putting on an air of menacing charm, I smile and flutter my eyes, talking smoothly. "Adam, stay calm. You just have to give me the money and I'm out of here. No one will get hurt if you just do what I say." Of course he’s still too shocked at the sudden turn of events and doesn’t move. I click the hammer back and snarl, “Move you stripy git, or I drill you between the eyes!” That gets the job done.
“Third,” I say, turning back to the guy I’m holding, “you take the money and you leave.” A knee to the nuts and he goes down. I tower over him. “No hostages. No threats. No bullsh*t! Understand?!” He gurgles what sounds like ascent through his own blood. I look up and face the last guy at the back of the store. He still hasn’t moved.
"As for you: a knife? Really? Get yourself a real weapon, you moron." I put two slugs in his knee caps for emphasis.
Letting out a disgusted huff, I turn back to the counter and slam the gun down. There’s a pile of cash on it and very scared zebra behind it. I blink. What? Ohh…
“Hey, uh, don’t worry about that, man. Just gimme the ice cream, a pack of smokes, and change for my ten bits and we’re all good.”
“Uh, s-sure,” Adam stammers as he reaches behind the counter for the cigarettes.
“And no menthols.”
Adam cringes, pulling his hand back from the pack he was going for. “No! No menthols! Of course not!”
I get my smokes and change, Sonata gets her ice cream, and we both leave the two stunned zebras to deal with the would-be robbers bleeding all over their floor. Fishing through my pockets before we head back out into the rain, I eventually find my car keys. “Let’s get going. I just hope we’re not too late to catch the beginning of Equestrian Idol by the time we get home.”
***
FIMFiction (not so) proudly presents:
Deadshot
in
(Not) Bulletproof
Written by Wave (running out of time) Blaster.
Edited by Diamond dust and nightwalker
Deadshot created by Bob Kane, David Vern Reed and Lew Schwartz
(although his characterization comes mostly from John Ostrander's work).
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic created by Lauren Faust (and others I suppose).
Copyrights lololol.
***
"Deadshot, the scariest BADASS! to walk on Equus," Sonata tells the ponies across the table. I wish she would stop using that word, and since when am I scary?
"There is no single hit she can't... hit."
Please Sonata, shut up.
"With a bullet."
Damn it.
They're in the absurdly expensive restaurant of the Bellagio. It must be warm and cozy inside the restaurant since Sonata and our new clients aren't wearing their jackets. Meanwhile I'm on the other side of the street on the roof of a rival casino. It's a cold night and the rain falls as if Celestia herself has decided to wash away the world's sins.
At least I can use the scope and a mini radio to see pretty well how Sonata is selling them the best shooter in the world for whatever they need me for.
"Second best one, if our contacts are correct," says the younger of our two contacts. Oh, you bloody booger. "I understand that she's no better than the Terminator." Here we go again, another douchebag contacting me just to ask for Adagio ‘Deathstroke the Terminator’ Dazzle. She's...
"...retired. I'm sorry but Dagi is not taking jobs anymore."
Atta girl, you just earned a homemade chili taco.
"And I suppose that this Deadshot is the best thing left? What about the Manta?"
Oh, come on! I know I'm under Dazzle, but Blaze? She's just a psycho with some shiny gadgets. I would shot her down myself if she wasn't Sonata's sister.
"I'm sorry, but Black Manta is also out of the business. Deadshot is the best mercenary in action, for realsies." I see the younger pony adjust his tie as if it was getting too hot in the room, while here I'm out here, drenched and freezing my flank off.
"Well, I suppose you could see what the job is about. This one here." The older pony passes a folder to Sonata. I'm counting on her to be able to recognize if the target is from my 'hell no' list. She takes a picture from the folder and holds it facing to the window.
I see a pony, probably a stallion given the build. That's all I can tell since his head is covered by a black, skull-like mask. Not ringing any bells so there shouldn't be a big problem. I turn on the laser and move it up and down. The ponies with Sonata notice this and I swear to Faust the young one almost faints.
Sonata calmly nods and looks back at them.
"As you can see, Deadshot is good enough to kill both of you if she wanted to." The siren is giving them the 'I see your soul' smile. "So, what about payment?"
"Of course, we are prepared to offer one thousand bits for..."
I turn the communicator off before I can't hold it. One thousand bits? Are you bloody kidding me?! You bloody fruit shop owner, I should-- I turn the laser on again, this time pointing to the bogan's head. I make sure his young companion can clearly see it before I turn the radio back on.
"I told you she wasn't going to take it lightly." Sonata and the one in my sights are the only ones not shaking. Good. "Our minimal commission is five thousand and that's only against low profile targets." She looks down at the photo and shakes her head. "This one? This is worth, at least, eighteen thousand."
Okay, I didn't recognize the guy, but if Sonata can make eighteen thousand out of this I'm not gonna complain.
"I-- We-- Well..." The one who almost fainted several seconds ago finally gives up and starts crying. Must be new in this. Pussy.
His companion seems more professional, since he's still stoic despite my laser between his eyes.
"Of course, it'll be eighteen thousand plus expenses. Tell her that we acknowledge her talents and skills." He moves his hand down towards his pants. Slow and easy mate, if you try anything against Sonata you'll be dead meat... Oh, I see; a wallet. "Here, consider the payment of this dinner as our first installment."
Sonata nods and rises from the seat. She takes her jacket and begins walking to the exit with the folder in her hands. Good, finally a job. I was starting to get bored.
***
"So, tell me," I say to Sonata, "what kind of mess am I into this time?" We're sitting inside the tool shed where I store my weapons and equipment.
"Don't tell me you don't know the Black Mask," she says as tossing me the wrist gun. I should be angry at her for doing that again, but I’ve learned to keep the weapons unloaded when Sonata's near.
"No, Sonata. I have no clue on who is this 'Black Mass' guy," Okay, the gun is on my wrist, so let's check how it works. "And by the way, how do you recognize someone under a mask?" Must be one ugly dude to go around wearing that all the time. That, or a major fan of Mexicolt wrestling. I slowly bend my hand down till I hear the click of the gun cocking.
"That's the whole idea. Nopony knows who he is but everypony recognizes the mask." She shows me the picture again. "Pretty much like you."
Touché.
"Okay, tell me what I need to know about him." I test the fire positions of the wrist gun. Towards my body for a single shot and away from it for automatic fire.
"Do you remember the mafia war from a year ago in Manehatten? Some months before we met?"
"Yeah, I got some good hits from that." I check the aiming device of the helmet, it seems clear. "They paid this house after all."
"Well, at some point, someone arranged a meeting for the five families that were involved." There it is, the actually professional but mostly unseen Miss Dusk. "The problem was that, at the meeting, someone assassinated all the capos.
"The next thing the city knows is that every capo and consigliere is dead, and all the major syndicates have no idea on what's going on. So, no bosses and no voices of reason, they all went into a full-on war. Of course, without anyone keeping the bribes flowing, the police suddenly remembered their job. There were a lot of arrests, en masse, leaving a big round power vacuum."
"Let me guess; this is where our Darth Mask enters."
"Bingo!" And there's the child-mare I know. "He contracted Dagi, Aria and me as his bodyguards and started organizing the drugs, the weapons and everything else. It was a very fun week actually, Aria taught me how to use her laser helmet. It was all like 'pew pew' and--"
I literally stop listening to her while letting her ramble while I think about it. Whoever this Black Mask is, he knows what he's doing. Sonata is rambling about ice cream tacos again, while I take the folder and give a look at Mask's record-- Holy shot!
Mass murder, torture, prostitution, assassination, corruption, commercialization of experimental drugs, film producer, the list goes on and on. After the fifth page I'm beginning to think that he's got a long mustache and a goatee under that mask. By the tenth page I'm sure he also practices his evil laughter. Page twelve, and I can only wonder if he even sleeps.
I put the record aside (I personally want to sleep tonight) and begin reading over his associates. No big names as far as I know. His bodyguard is some loser from the east called Helmet Strings. There are some connections to the deer mafia and nothing else before Manehatten.
"Sonata," I say, interrupting what I assume was an interesting rant about tacos. "You worked for him, what should I expect?"
"Hmm." She puts her hand over her chin like she’s thinking. No, I don't buy the gesture. "Well, when he paid us, it was enough for Dagi to think that we could retire."
"And our new employers?"
"One is the son of one of the deceased capos, the one that almost pissed himself when you turned on the laser sight.” We both chuckle at that. "The older guy is a friend of the family from here."
"So a vendetta job." These mafia families like those.
"It seems like one." She takes the folder back and searches between the pages. I take the time to put on the helmet and test the new thermal lens. It seems fine. "Here." Sonata is holding a ticket. "I already bought you the train ticket and the contractors said they've got the stay and contacts arranged there." I take the ticket; one way.
"And!" Sonata exclaims before I can say anything. "I got the ticket back to Las Pegasus."
She passes me a second ticket. She finally remembered the extraction! It was about bloody time.
"Thanks Sonata. You're a competent partner."
"No worries Trix, I'll take care of the house meanwhile." Oh Faust in heaven. "Good luck." She hugs me. She's squishing me, again, but I let her. Although I don't even like hugs and she tries to murder me every time, I let her.
I let her because I know she really means to show me affection when she hugs me, when calling me Trix, when arranging the business. I know she likes me like a friend, maybe even more.
I wish I knew how to return that affection, but I don't. I don't even care anymore. All I know and care about right now is that I got another target to bring down.
***
In the train station I buy a book, as usual. No, I'm not a scholar pony, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy a book or two between jobs. I've already read all the classics; The Divine Comedy, Don Rocinante, Hamlet, One Hundred Years of Solitude. I suppose they’re my way to escape reality once in a while.
This time though, I'm reading something completely different. In the station's gift shop I found a title that caught my eye; How to be a Good Friend by none other than our newest princess, Miss Twilight Perfect F-n’ Sparkle herself. At first I thought about shooting down everyone in the shop and walk out with a copy of the new book from Mane Brown, but then I remembered Sonata and how little clue I've got on how to treat her.
The trip to Manehatten is long enough to let me focus on the book and it's cheesy as hell. A smiling, pink, and diabetes inducing hell. But it still has some useful tips on how to treat what's apparently a friend. By the end of the trip I'm considering buying something for Sonata and giving her more than just her usual five percent of the commission.
Damn it, I'm getting soft. I take my head out of that 'friends' thing and focus on the task at hand. Since this Black Mask guys seems to be a high profile, I need to get serious. Come on Lulamoon, put the helmet on, step out of the train and wait for your contact.
I do exactly that. It's the middle of night when the train arrives and the station’s covered by snow. Good, with weather like this there are very few witnesses on the streets. Maybe this job will be easy.
***
This job is not gonna be easy. In fact, I'm already counting it as one of the worst, right next to that time in the Crystal Empire when I almost got caught.
This should be easy. Just meet the contact, find where Black Mask is, point the rifle at his head, pull the trigger, and say a catchphrase. Even an amateur could follow those steps. But nooooo, the contractor is one of those fillies with more money than brains who makes everything personal.
The idiot not only contracted me, but other three mercenaries because 'it's very important'. Moron. I should kill him instead and take the satisfaction as payment. Damn I hate group jobs. It doesn't only mean that the contractor doesn't think you can do it alone -- which is already insulting -- but also that whatever they're paying you is a fraction of the whole. You're just getting a piece of the bigger pie -- four times bigger in this case.
"Don't worry, Ms. Deadshot," says the chauffeur that picked me up at the station. "They're very professional too, and I'm positive that it will help." Yeah, keep yubbin' that big mouth, while it's still attached to your bloody neck.
*sigh*
Calm down Lulamoon, he's just the chauffeur, he's probably not even aware of what's happening.
"We’ve arrived," he says, stopping the car outside an office building. We enter and he leads me to the rooftop. I stop before he opens the door, imagining what kind of ponies I'll be forced to work with. I must be very tense, because he notes that I'm not happy with this, even under the mask.
"I can assure you, they were picked under very selective standards." Okay, that can't be really bad, I suppose. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that they’re the three best mercenaries, after you of course." He opens the door and I look inside and that's how this guy won -- without any effort -- the prize to the euphemism of the year.
The so called 'professionals' are a couple of dorks named Flim and Flam and a psycho named Gilda.
The brothers used to be inventors and half-plotted conponies. After one too many failed schemes to make easy money cost them their last saving, they had a stroke of inspiration. Why lose time with cons that they can't even pull off if they could use their bloody brains for something else?
You would think it would mean making an actually functional machine to patent and sell. They thought it meant creating super-weapons and robbing banks. In what Sonata and I agree is the bullcrap of the century, Flim started to use an ice thrower and dressed in a completely white suit, called himself Icicle. Flam, for his part, uses a more traditional flame thrower and a fireproof red and white suit. He insists on being called the Equine Flame.
I usually call them Moron One and Moron Two, and don't even care which is which.
Now Gilda is a different story. For starters, I have the moral high ground to call her psycho, which should say enough right there. I even worked with her once, she's a total mess. Barely trained, unprofessional, immature; a bully who’s constantly talking about the better days. While I use a bulletproof vest over my suit -- and even Moron One and Moron Two have some common sense to use safety clothes -- Gilda only wears an orange kimono with black stripes and bronze gloves over her claws.
"Deadshot," Gilda says when she recognizes my mask. "Long time no see. Since Zebrica, right?"
I give her a second glance; she seems more focused tonight than I remember. Her stance and body language are completely different and she even seems to be in a far better shape.
"Gilda," I offer her my hand. "Yeah, since Zebrica." She smiles at me while we shake hands.
"Please, you know that's not my name when I'm working." Oh, right. Since Dazzle, most of mercenaries worldwide started to use code names -- not as a cover strategy like me, just because it sounds 'cool'.
"Sure... Bronze Tigress."
Too. Much. Campiness.
"Tigress will suffice."
"So," Flam says. "Who's got the intel?"
I resist the urge to facepalm. Oh please, tell me that he didn't just ask that.
"I got it." I see how Gilda take a sheet of paper from her kimono. Oh no. I see how they bend over the edge of the rooftop, just now reading the plans I memorized before even stepping onto the train.
"Four floors below the penthouse." Gilda points to the building next to ours. "The large window in the northwest corner."
"He didn't close his blinds," Flim notes.
Of course not, you idiot, the windows are--
"Bulletproof." Gilda finishes my line of thought. "You should know, I memorized these plans this morning."
Huh, maybe there really is some quality here.
"Anything else?"
Yes, the security scheme has--
"Movement detectors, four industrial lasers--" any room can be closed and filled with “--paralyzing gas. Then, there are the half dozen--" bodyguards with black market weapons "--meta-weapons if the intel is correct."
Gilda and I finish at the same time. I murmur in approval, one eyebrow cocked. I might have to take her more seriously now.
"It's gonna be hot," Flam says. "But it doesn't matters."
"Because we're the cool ones." Flim completes his brother's phrase.
No, they didn't. No, they just-- no. They did not just make a fire and ice pun.
That's it, I'm leaving the kids to play games and try to pull this alone, otherwise I’m liable to kill all of them myself before the other guys even get a chance. I unsling the high-caliber sniper rifle from my back and pop the stabilizer bipod arms. I normally wouldn’t need a beast such as this for taking out a target across the street, but since BM here has bulletproof windows, I'll need a wee bit more penetration than normal.
Titanium bullet, shaped like a drill (Sonata's idea) and a small counterweight that makes it vibrate as it travels. This sucker can make a hole through diamond. A beauty of the ballistic arts, all wrapped in a magnetic rail with a gazillion of volts accelerating the projectile over nine hundred meters per second square. Faster than any speeding bullet.
I call it the Machina, because what's coming out of it could kill a god.
Okay, Mask, I got your fancy office in my scope and that absurdly expensive chair in my crosshairs, now where are you? I see the doors open, and a pony dressed like it was Nightmare Night enters first. He's wearing a military uniform, but a way too old version, all tinted red. I can see he's wearing a metallic helmet too. Must be Mask's bodyguard, because he's looking all around the office.
I take a glance to my 'team' and they are discussing how good Black Mask’s security room is, agreeing that they can't let him inside it or otherwise we lose the hit.
"Okay, let's hit the target before that can happen."
After some five or ten minutes, the guy in red stands still (probably trained) next to the desk. He makes a salute that seems familiar, but I can put my finger on it, and four more ponies enter. Three stallions, one mare, all dressed in business suits. After that, the main guest, the man who made Manehatten's crime his bitch. Black Mask himself enters the room and sits down on his desk, probably to make the counts of the day.
I let my world go quiet as I breath out slowly and wrap my finger around the trigger. Then I squeeze and everything explodes with an Equus shattering kaboom.
*KRAKOOM!*
The one problem with the Machina, it's not a silent weapon. I bet that half of the city heard that and, following my information, we have eleven minutes to leave this place before the cops are here. Enough time to--
Wait, where's the blood?!
I shot him in the head and he's on the floor, but his head is still recognizable and there's no blood-- Mortherf*cker had a helmet!
"Deadshot!" I hear Flim (or Flam, the one with the mustache) calling me. "What the hell, pal? We were still figuring it out!"
"I had the target, no time to wait." I point them to the exit, but the idiots aren't even moving. "Come on! We have less than ten minutes to get out!" They finally figure out that being caught is not good and we all race for the stairs, but a loud whistle sounds above us. I look right in time to see a very heavy and expensive oak desk coming down on top of us.
"Watch out!" Gilda shouts and we all jump away from it. I recognize the desk and look at Black Mask's office. The window is not even there anymore, and the bloody wanker is standing on the edge, pointing at us with at us with his index finger.
Is he really..? That cheeky bastard is wagging his finger at me like I’m some kind of school filly in for a scolding! Oh, he is so--
*thump!*
Something lands behind me. Something heavy. I turn around and see the same clown in the military costume from before. He's a stallion, taller than me, maybe even taller than Gilda. He's in the middle of us, right over where the desk landed.
"Mein name is Red Panzer." What the hell?
"And you, you are all dea--"
*bang!* It really bores me when they monologue.
"Nein!"
Oh, come on! Can't anyone die from a headshot tonight? Is the Grim Reaper pranking me? I now realize that what I thought was a helmet was covering his whole head.
Of course, this Panzer guy doesn't seem to like being shot mid-sentence, because he charges at me. Gilda intercepts him, tackling him to the ground. It doesn't last. Not even a second later and they're trading blows. I'm trying to aim for Panzer but they're moving too much. Maybe I'll have to shot through Gilda to do so.
I have surprisingly little problem with this.
"What are you doing?" Flam (or Flim, the moron with the fire suit) pushes my arm out of the way. "You'll hit Gilda!"
"And?"
"We need to help her." Flim (or-- arg! The other moron!) says.
We don't get to argue, a rain of bullets from the other building stops us. The brothers take cover but I turn around and see eight ponies unloading four berettas, one uzi, two AKs, and an MP5. Easy.
I cock the wrist guns and turn on the PTD (precision targeting device) in my mask. I take the MP5 first, a direct hit on his aiming eye. Then a bullet for the uzi's barrel. It jams and explodes, wreaking havoc and stopping the shooting.
"Flim! Flam! Show me you're not totally useless!" I would normally take down them by myself, but I want to save bullets for our Panzer guy over there.
"On it 'Shot!" The one with the ice gun rise from his cover. "Hey punks, freeze!" Flim shoots his weapon to the window where our attackers are recovering. They get immediately frozen on the spot, all of them and the entire room covered in ice, and that was just one shot. So far I've only heard rumors about these new meta-weapons, but I admit that seeing them on action is... interesting.
I turn back to Gilda, who is actually landing more blows than taking them. Panzer is slow, as if there was a weight restraining him, while Gilda is going all butterflies and bees on his ass. The problem? Our girl is panting and he's not even flinching.
"You half-breed monster! I'll free the world of your kind!" Panzer shouts at her while raising his right arm. Just now I realize he doesn't have a hand there. The infrared lens in my mask goes crazy over it. I try to figure out what he's doing, but someone has other plans.
"Gilda, get out of the way." Flam is now aiming his flamethrower to them, Gilda doesn't catch on but instead she's knocked out of the way by Panzer, allowing Flam releases a column of fire over him. I'm this close to thinking this team is not totally screwed. "Burn baby, burn!"
"Dummkopf! I am Red Panzer! The Panzer!" I now see a figure is walking out of the flames towards Flam. "Your puny little weapon is nothing to me." Now that his uniform is burned I can see what's up with him. He's wearing a full body armor made of metal, and his right arm has something that looks like a cannon mounted on it. Flam is still unloading his flamethrower over Panzer, but he's still advancing.
"Now, deadpony, stay dead!" Panzer gets close enough to hit Flam in the gut. It's a strong blow, it sends the pyromaniac flying a couple of meters in the air.
"Flam!" Flim shouts to Panzer, raising his ice gun to him. But Panzer is faster, he raises his right arm and fires it.
*Boom!*
A sphere of red electricity leaves Panzer's arm and hits Flim in the chest. Sparks dance around his body and he falls to the floor. I recognize the charge; military-grade electrical rifle, used by the Night Guard and designed in Minos. It's not a lethal weapon, but I've heard that hits like an angry minotaur. Before I have time to analyze anything else, Panzer turns to me.
"You must be the fräulein who shoot mein boss."
I hiss and grit my teeth. I've never faced a target this close. They're usually at a safe minimum of ten meters distance. I hesitate for a second, but no more than that. I can't feel fear now, never. The moment I do, I'm dead.
"Oh, a silent one? Do not worry, I can be very friendly." He takes one step and that's all I give him. I shoot a full charge of my wrist guns over him. I make all of them count; articulations, eyes, mouth, groin.
Nothing.
"Now, now, that wasn't a very friendly thing to do, was it?" I don't have time to reload, and he's already charging his arm cannon. "I’ll have to teach you some manners."
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You know if I wasn't going to go a different route with Trixie in my story? I'd have asked you to collab on it............. Just so you know that offer is STILL open if you want. Anyway, I leave THIS piece of badassery with MY OWN piece of badassery!
Good show Wave. Good show.
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Admittedly this is probably the only instance of sue bashing, but you´re still missing out.
Good story.
5659457
Whenever you prefer it, I would be honored to work in a collab with you. I would also like to extend the same offer.
*sees the video* Holy YouTube videos, Lunar!
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All thanks to you and your support on the development stages.
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Just a moment of 'just for fun' to make room for an introduction.
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Thanks for reading.
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true, but the idea of a sue being in fact a mass mind Controlling entity seeking adoration and conquest is as legit as almost everything else the writers that get paid do, i mean, i wouldn´t have been surprised if IDW did that sometime.
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If that happens, I'll sue them till they give Trixie her own miniseries.
didn´t she already get two pretty neat Comic appearances?
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Neat indeed, but a miniseries? Now that's something. different.
HOLY SWEET MOTHER OF ODINS BEARD!!!!!! DO IT AGAIN!!!! MOAR REFFERENCES!!!!!!!!!!!!
nice and you still keep the humor part even though you're out of your territory
definitly nice
and nope trixie, headshots are useless tonight
aim for the leg
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Dude, this is not level one in comparison to my other works. Fics like The Doom Patrol and The Show MUST Go On! have, at least two or three references per paragraph! (shameless self promotion is shameless)
Case in point: Show MUST Go On: Shout-Outs
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I don't think that the leg is a lethal point.
Glad you liked it.
5663122 that's what i thought when i played the new call of duty
but when you headshot two guys by shooting in their legs well.......you start to Wonder about how our world works
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Too bad that Trixie only put a single round in the Machina.
5663133 that's how she learned to always carry an extra one
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That's good for future!Trixie, but present!Trixie is out of bullets in front of nazi!Iron Man.
I like it. Being a sniper myself in videogames (NOT CoD! *shudders* Trickshotters...), I can sort of relate. Quite well done on the mercenary end as well.
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What can I say? Years of comic books and hours of Team Fortress 2, teaming-up for this story. Glad you liked it and thanks for the comment
Im sorry the editor in me instantly caught this I believe you meant add
This story has some serious potential but you need to find an editor. Im not trying to sound like a dick when I say that but I caught several mistakes. Other than that keep up the good work.
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Funny, considering that another person actually praised that I didn't screwed the grammar up. I suppose it is because the other guy knows my previous work (there's no grammar there).
Well, at least the narrative seem to be good enough, glad you liked it and thanks for reading.
(Finally getting around to reading this...)
Hmm... I like the inclusion of Flim and Flam, actually. A good reminder that this isn't only Warren Ellis-like grimness and bullets, and it adds a nice variation to the fights, much like how Sonata brightens up scenes in her own way. You definitely want to avoid the dreaded phenomenon known as Darkness-Induced Audience Apathy, and mixing it up like that certainly helps.
I'm having a little trouble getting a good mental image of Gilda, though. Trouble with anthro, I suppose. In what way is she a half-breed?
Railguns are supremely cool, and an excellent choice for sequestered targets. But subtle they are not. Coolness aside, I'm a little disappointed that Trixie didn't pick a more underhanded and subtle approach, but I can hope for future assignments, can I not?