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Talk:Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions
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Talk:Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure (view source)
Revision as of 10:53, 19 May 2021
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Algernon gunned the Kawasaki. | Algernon gunned the Kawasaki. | ||
The detonation timer on the dash ticked down. The KPI explosives were primed. ''5:45 and counting.'' | The detonation timer on the dash ticked down. The KPI explosives were primed. ''5:45 and counting.'' | ||
Boone | Boone wrestled with the wheel. The rig groaned and screamed under the collossal Gs as it re-vectored agonisingly to the north. ''Come on, you brute, come on ...''. The rig leveled up. The Gs eased off. Five clicks yonder, Boone could see Operations outpost in the crosshairs, shimmering in the hot desert air. ''Your chickens are coming home to roost, my operational friends.'' | ||
The timer | Boone stomped on the metal. The monstrous diesel turbines screamed. The rig jolted. | ||
The timer ticked past 5:00. | |||
'' So … little … time …'' | '' So … little … time …'' | ||
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But slowly, he hauled himself back into the game. He executed a daring switch-grip, squirrel-jumped onto the grille, dragged himself up and established a firm boothold on the chassis. Like a limpet, he clambered up and edged around the towards cabin door. | But slowly, he hauled himself back into the game. He executed a daring switch-grip, squirrel-jumped onto the grille, dragged himself up and established a firm boothold on the chassis. Like a limpet, he clambered up and edged around the towards cabin door. | ||
The timer | The CB in the cabin pinged. Capcom sounded rattled. Hey, Kurzweil do you read? We see your vector heading north. What’s going on? Is everything in order? | ||
Boone picked up the receiver. “Ah, capcom all is in order. We are just seeing some interference so — er — re-routing the north-west. Ten four, over.” | |||
“Heinrich, is that you?” | |||
“Er, yeah, of course it is. ''Ja'', I mean. ''Ja'', hier ist Kurzweil.” Boone winced. | |||
“But this manoeuvre isn’t in the playbook, Kurzweil. This is ORI material —” | |||
“Ahh, Maxine — I am struggling to maintain secure connection. Everything in order. Repeat, everthing in order. Going dark over.” | |||
The timer ticked past 4:30. | |||
Boone pressed down on the metal. | Boone pressed down on the metal. | ||
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“Way to go, Georgie!” | “Way to go, Georgie!” | ||
The other | The other dirt-bike burst into view off a low ridge, exploding through scrubland. Georgie pulled wheelie. | ||
“Yo, Boone! | “Yo, Boone! Eyes right!” | ||
But it was too late. With a single fluid motion Kurzweil vaulted up, leant | But it was too late. With a single fluid motion Kurzweil vaulted up, leant through the window, baffed Boone across the jaw, and grabbed the wheel. “''NOT … ON … MY… WATCH … BOONE''” | ||
Boone spat a string of blood. The taste of copper filled his mouth. | |||
Kurzweil came again, but this time Boone was braced for him. An elbow to the cheek knocked the operations commando back, cracking his head against the stanchion. Boone clamped him, but the Operations man kept swinging. He got Boone by the throat: ''chokehold''. He gripped like a vice. | |||
Kurzweil came again, but this time Boone was braced for him. An elbow to the cheek knocked | |||
The rig veered and fishtailed. | The rig veered and fishtailed. | ||
The timer ticked past 4:00. | |||
Boone | As his air-flow constricted, Boone felt himself going light-headed. He scanned the windshield blearily. ''Where were the dirtbikes?''. He tried to reach for the wristcom to call them, but Kurzweil’s reach was too long. Kurzweil baffed him again, and somehow hooked a boot on the latch. The door swung wide, with Kurzweil on it. He hauled out Boone by the throat. | ||
The | Boone couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. The air started to go black. Kurzweil doubled down on the clamp. Boone swung at him, but he found nothing but air: the big Dutchman’s reach was too great. The door swung back. Kurzweil booted Boone in the face. Boone lost grip on the wheel, Kurzweil pushed it back round. As Boone passed out his last thought was, ''Algy, where the hell are you?'' | ||
the | The rig ground around back towards the Legal Settlement. | ||
The counter ticked past 3:30. | |||
snap out of the fantasies of the playing fields of Rugby which filled his empty head far too often, and notice the grim fight to the death occurring mere inches in front of the cargo hold. | snap out of the fantasies of the playing fields of Rugby which filled his empty head far too often, and notice the grim fight to the death occurring mere inches in front of the cargo hold. | ||