Thunderstraat
25-10-2004, 23:09
A man sat at a table in a clean white restaurant in a clean white new shopping complex and thought untidy black thoughts.
A buzz from his pocket almost sent him flying. He reached into a pocket of his gray business suit and pulled out a standard-issue communicator. He answered it to find the line dead.
The man scowled and replaced the comm. Less than a minute later a calm voice echoed over the dull roar of the mall. "Would all customers please draw their attention to end the main hallway opposite the Twelfstraat exit please," it said. The man in the clean white restaurant stood up with his fellow consumers and walked to the railing separating the shop from the shopping complex's avenue. He coolly removed his dark, expensive sunglasses and leaned over the railing, staring at the crisp white wall at the end of the hallway.
A patrol of Orcish soldiers, Rosewegian Imperial insignia on their cloaks, were dragging a Thunderstraater in chains to the wall. One removed an arc-welder from a pouch and welded the prisoner to the plascrete edifice. The welder, apparently their leader, stepped back, and his command formed a semicircle.
"Aim! Ready! And! FIRE!"
The soldiers carried guns made for utility and not for effect. They still made a rather nasty effect on their prisoner's body, punching a hole from his trachea to his navel and moving the contents of that hole, somewhat expanded from the force of the energy burps, onto the wall behind him.
The crowd went silent.
The patrol silently left, as the voice on the PA calmly resumed: "Illspirit 113A Patrol has executed a member of the terrorist organization known as the Society. The Office of the Governer wishes to urge all citizens with knowledge of this organization to disclose it to Imperial sources and all citizens involved in any way with this organization to henceforth cease all activity with it. Thank you."
The hall rung with the lack of cheering.
As the patrol left its leader lingered, watching his handiwork as the bloody arms dangled from the reddened wall. His troops actually reached the door before two 'Straaters with the blood-red Society logo on their T-shirts grabbed him and hustled him to the wall. They stepped back, drew shock pistols from pocket holsters, and with less discipline but more precision, shot the leader of Illspirit 113A Patrol.
Their guns were designed for utility and for effect. Explosive bullets entering a body and exploding at the head and stomach cavity at the same time do produce quite an effect, for those who enjoy that sort of thing.
Before the patrol had turned around, the Society executioners had disappeared.
http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=366039
A buzz from his pocket almost sent him flying. He reached into a pocket of his gray business suit and pulled out a standard-issue communicator. He answered it to find the line dead.
The man scowled and replaced the comm. Less than a minute later a calm voice echoed over the dull roar of the mall. "Would all customers please draw their attention to end the main hallway opposite the Twelfstraat exit please," it said. The man in the clean white restaurant stood up with his fellow consumers and walked to the railing separating the shop from the shopping complex's avenue. He coolly removed his dark, expensive sunglasses and leaned over the railing, staring at the crisp white wall at the end of the hallway.
A patrol of Orcish soldiers, Rosewegian Imperial insignia on their cloaks, were dragging a Thunderstraater in chains to the wall. One removed an arc-welder from a pouch and welded the prisoner to the plascrete edifice. The welder, apparently their leader, stepped back, and his command formed a semicircle.
"Aim! Ready! And! FIRE!"
The soldiers carried guns made for utility and not for effect. They still made a rather nasty effect on their prisoner's body, punching a hole from his trachea to his navel and moving the contents of that hole, somewhat expanded from the force of the energy burps, onto the wall behind him.
The crowd went silent.
The patrol silently left, as the voice on the PA calmly resumed: "Illspirit 113A Patrol has executed a member of the terrorist organization known as the Society. The Office of the Governer wishes to urge all citizens with knowledge of this organization to disclose it to Imperial sources and all citizens involved in any way with this organization to henceforth cease all activity with it. Thank you."
The hall rung with the lack of cheering.
As the patrol left its leader lingered, watching his handiwork as the bloody arms dangled from the reddened wall. His troops actually reached the door before two 'Straaters with the blood-red Society logo on their T-shirts grabbed him and hustled him to the wall. They stepped back, drew shock pistols from pocket holsters, and with less discipline but more precision, shot the leader of Illspirit 113A Patrol.
Their guns were designed for utility and for effect. Explosive bullets entering a body and exploding at the head and stomach cavity at the same time do produce quite an effect, for those who enjoy that sort of thing.
Before the patrol had turned around, the Society executioners had disappeared.
http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=366039