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Pocari Sweat
Jul. 5th, 2005 09:45 pmIf your LJ name is in this text, read the quasi-rules.
Continuing from dcltdw --> shumashi --> ricedog.
“Um, OK.” The courier diligently started for the door.
“Not that way. They followed you in. We’re leaving by the fire escape,” Rebecca said, exasperated.
A man without a mission, the courier cringed at her tone and meekly followed her out the window. Rebecca gracefully slid down the wet ladder to the second landing, and then simply let go. She landed on the broken pavement as if she had just stepped down six inches from a sidewalk into the street. As she waited for the courier to complete his laborious descent to the fog-laden alley, her phone buzzed in her ear.
“Ripped Satin.”
The caller laughed. “You always had a good sense of humor, even on Mondays.”
Rebecca smiled for the first time in two months. “No monkeys yet, but it has been somewhat comic. The pilot fled in quite a hurry. The templates were all there, as well as the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dpolicar artifact and a notebook. The notes appear to be in Proto-Elamite.”
“We’ll send a linguist.”
The courier gingerly swung down from the bottom rung, crushing a tuft of ambitiousremcat grass as he landed.
“There were also two mooks, apparently working for a doctor. They gave our friend quite a lump on his head.”
“Are they alive?”
“Probably, although I needed to use a high dose ofgreyautumnrain. The doctor may have sent another who could arrive soon.”
“Get a new phone, and we’ll arrange your date with a linguist. Don’t lose the mule.”
Rebecca closed the phone, dropped it to the ground, and crushed it beneath the heel of her boot. She addressed the courier as if speaking to a dead camel. “Tear out the first two pages of that book.”
Perplexed, he did as he was told, remaining silent.
After visiting a convenience store to obtain a new phone, she called HQ. The linguist was still several hours from the city, so she had plenty of time to listen to the recording in the encyclopedia and interrogate the hapless kilt fancier. Poor dupe, what did he think he was doing going back to the pilot's place? Hopefully thetreptoplax Squad would pick up the pilot, but if not, this pawn was their only plausible link.
Continuing from dcltdw --> shumashi --> ricedog.
“Um, OK.” The courier diligently started for the door.
“Not that way. They followed you in. We’re leaving by the fire escape,” Rebecca said, exasperated.
A man without a mission, the courier cringed at her tone and meekly followed her out the window. Rebecca gracefully slid down the wet ladder to the second landing, and then simply let go. She landed on the broken pavement as if she had just stepped down six inches from a sidewalk into the street. As she waited for the courier to complete his laborious descent to the fog-laden alley, her phone buzzed in her ear.
“Ripped Satin.”
The caller laughed. “You always had a good sense of humor, even on Mondays.”
Rebecca smiled for the first time in two months. “No monkeys yet, but it has been somewhat comic. The pilot fled in quite a hurry. The templates were all there, as well as the
dpolicar artifact and a notebook. The notes appear to be in Proto-Elamite.”“We’ll send a linguist.”
The courier gingerly swung down from the bottom rung, crushing a tuft of ambitious
remcat grass as he landed.“There were also two mooks, apparently working for a doctor. They gave our friend quite a lump on his head.”
“Are they alive?”
“Probably, although I needed to use a high dose of
greyautumnrain. The doctor may have sent another who could arrive soon.”“Get a new phone, and we’ll arrange your date with a linguist. Don’t lose the mule.”
Rebecca closed the phone, dropped it to the ground, and crushed it beneath the heel of her boot. She addressed the courier as if speaking to a dead camel. “Tear out the first two pages of that book.”
Perplexed, he did as he was told, remaining silent.
After visiting a convenience store to obtain a new phone, she called HQ. The linguist was still several hours from the city, so she had plenty of time to listen to the recording in the encyclopedia and interrogate the hapless kilt fancier. Poor dupe, what did he think he was doing going back to the pilot's place? Hopefully the
treptoplax Squad would pick up the pilot, but if not, this pawn was their only plausible link.
