Jack Smith AKA Eightball
Jack carries into his hero life the same attitude he has in the pool hall. To him, tracking down a bounty, or criminal, it is all a hustle, certainly better then having a job. He is a bit of a Dirty Harry, since he believes, the end justifies the means.
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One of the Team
After settling into the military housing units at Cheyenne’s FE Warren Air Force Base and briefly meeting Axiom, Frank and Rod, Allen Rousch, the Commander in charge of our unit gives us a scrub assignment and has us transported to the bunker. Along the way my Drone scans and logs everyone. Axiom is interesting, they guy has no shortage of gear.
When we arrive at the bunker Axiom looks around with his weird goggles and then lets us know the lay of the land. Apparently the goggles give him schematics or superman vision? Either way, he already seems like a handy guy. I let them know I am not interested in the restricted one man at a time drop down entrance and we all agree the main entrance with a collaborated entrance seems wise. The bunker door is unlocked, so we enter.
Nothing on the stairs. No one else volunteering. "I'll go first." say I and fly to the bottom of the stairwell landing and looking to the hall to the left. I am not an architect, but it strikes me as strange to have an underground bunker, with a staircase going down a dozen steps to enter a hallway and immediately turn left. Doesn't seem convenient or defensive. I would have build the stairwell straight off the hallway. Maybe they build it that way so it would be easier to recapture? Who knows.
Woah! Yikes! What I see next is disgusting. Imagine a human centipede covered in boils with clicker claws instead of hands and feet and head that are barely recognizable. Now I understand why Rousch said, "Terminate the occupants." I hope this wasn't his baby gone bad and he is correcting someone else's mistake. But I tell you what, I had no intention of touching those things. No way. I grab a large brick of concrete and use my arcane strength to throw it at the 'thing' clinging to the ceiling pipe as hard as I can. SLAMMO, direct hit and flops to the ground.
Frank and Rod join me in the hall and we put an end to a few more of the poor bastards. Me improvising with a large ceiling pipe as a cue stick. Disgusting bug mutant corner pocket! My Drone moves up to join us at the junction of this first hall and informs me telepathically that behind the door in the left hall there is a mutant with a much higher energy reading. I ricochet off a wall, land at the ajar door and rip it wide open only to see a two-faced mutant even scarier then the first ones. It must not think much of me either, as somehow it tries to close the door but I block his attempt with the pipe. Then thinking better then joining him in his little fun room, I launch myself back down the hall, off the wall, land and invite it, "Come out and play..." I hold the pipe ready to slam it.
Rod and Frank join me, I don't see Axiom, but I hear stone and earth rending as he makes his own way in. Big and Ugly accepts my invite, exits his room. I call Axiom to see if he can telekinetically grab him? Axiom does, but the mutant breaks free right way, so I give him a pool cue shot with the pipe! Awesome hit, it almost looks stunned has it hits the wall. But then surprise, surprise, it is not going to be that easy. It seems to like the abuse and thick layers of skin form all over it and it rights itself and comes to give an answer...
He probably won't target Frank, to close in the gene-pool. Maybe it will go after Rod and his flashy lightning stick. Axiom is too smart, he's in back. So, yeah, it will probably be me?
We'll see, NEXT TIME IN: REA Team 5: Wild Things in the West!!
Investigating Seabrook
1972.
1990.
2013 .
2014.
2039.
2013*.
Lowest common denominator; Studdard.
TEXT > "Yes. I understand. I'll head to Seabrook and check them out. I'll report back. But, bust or boon, you're still paying me."
TEXT< "Of course, your services are always valued."
The Hunt Begins
A crow flying high above the buildings at dawn, changes its course at the last second so violently a couple feathers are knocked loose by the sudden course correction and the feathers float towards the streets below, it avoids the small black orb floating above the city.
The feathers spin and flutter downward, landing not far from a dark cloaked figure, his bolero hat casts his face in darkness, he eyes the street, but at the same time looks down upon the street he stand. A view from his drone far above, projected to his mind.
Nothing picked up here, in the shadows and the sky, they move on to the next city block.
