[Worldbuilder] Just Another Day on the Job
[Worldbuilder] Just Another Day on the Job stories
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Autoplay OFF  •  8 months ago
It was rainy, and about as cold as the city got; an inside day, yet here she was riding into the hills on a motorcycle. Idiots were idiots rain or shine, wearing suits or spandex, and they always left messes for her to clean up. It made for steady pay, but on days like this she wish she'd stuck with robbing banks.
Source: semiurge https://www.reddit.com/r/...

[Worldbuilder] Just Another Day on the Job

by semiurge

It was rainy, and about as cold as the city got; an inside day, yet here she was riding into the hills on a motorcycle.

Idiots were idiots rain or shine, wearing suits or spandex, and they always left messes for her to clean up. It made for steady pay, but on days like this she wish she'd stuck with robbing banks.

The briefing was, well, brief. The target was some low-ranked scrub with a lame name like Baron Blaster, or Power Man. Had a drinking problem.

Hit his wife a couple hours ago, and she had the discretion to dial hubby's stable rep instead of 911. Not something the cops should be involved in.

That'd make it into the news, reflect poorly on the Company. The job was simple: get the guy to rehab before him and Mr. Whiskey lose their employer some face.

He's sitting in the driveway, head in his hands. Hears her coming (sloppy), shifts from sad to mad in an instant. He knows who she is, why she's here, and isn't going to come quietly.

They don't often do. That's fine though, she's a pro at what she does.

The rain muddles his words, but the intent is clear: bragging, bluster, hesitation. Fighting words from a man who's never had a real fight. Gives her all the time she needs.

Three seconds to extrude a gumdrop, less than one to whip it down his throat. He's flailing back now, clawing at the sticky mass that's spread across his face.

There's an outstretched hand flung out, and a blast of something bright and hot.

She's winded, five meters back, and staring at the sky. Not a crack in her candy coating. She didn't know exactly how hard it was, but it's always harder than they think.

Her quarry's down too, and in worse shape than her. Out like a smothered baby. She waits a medically inadvisable time before clearing the goop out of his windpipe.

He'll be hogtied and well on his way to a rehab clinic before he comes to.

She calls it in and allows herself a smoke for a job well done. Kevin's on pickup (he always is for her L.A. jobs, the creeper) and tries too hard to start a conversation.

Not fifteen minutes later and she's on her way back home, to a hot mug of tea and a fat payday.

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