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Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions

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Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure (view source)

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Schweiner growled into the intercom. “You seein’ these, Bugsy?”  
Schweiner growled into the intercom. “You seein’ these, Bugsy?”  


“On the [[MIS]]? Yaaah, boss, I’m seein’ ”em,” Bugsy was Brooklyn-tough. Schweiner dug his earthy attitude. “They’re just a couple of doc jocks, I think. All cool.”
“On the [[MIS]]? Yaaah, boss, I’m seein’ ’em,” Bugsy was Brooklyn-tough. Schweiner dug his earthy attitude. “They’re just a couple of doc jocks, I think. All cool.”


Schweiner screwed in the scope and brought up a video feed. Sure enough: two [[negotiator]]s were ambling distractedly around an execution memo. Youngsters. No threat at this distance, but Schweiner could tell it narked Bugsy all the same.  
Schweiner screwed in the scope and brought up a video feed. Sure enough: two [[negotiator]]s were ambling distractedly around an execution memo. Youngsters. No threat at this distance, but Schweiner could tell it narked Bugsy all the same.  
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“It’s no trouble. Seriously.” Bugsy had a wild streak. Most uniform bulls in legal ops did: the chief encouraged it. This was no reluctant performance of duty for Authorised Operating Officer Walter N. Buggs, [[MBA|M.B.A.]] (Insead). This was ''job satisfaction''. “Ahh, hang it. Why the hell not?”  
“It’s no trouble. Seriously.” Bugsy had a wild streak. Most uniform bulls in legal ops did: the chief encouraged it. This was no reluctant performance of duty for Authorised Operating Officer Walter N. Buggs, [[MBA|M.B.A.]] (Insead). This was ''job satisfaction''. “Ahh, hang it. Why the hell not?”  


Bugsy’s gunship let rip — it lit up the [[GMSLA]] guy like a candle. Bugsy whooped. “[[SOX]] attest ''that'' my litte paisan! Ha-ha!”  
Bugsy’s ack-ack let rip — it lit up the [[GMSLA]] guy like a candle. Bugsy whooped. “[[SOX]] attest ''that'' my litte paisan! Ha-ha!”  


Bugsy blammed out another — a lame-ass two-way [[confi]] — just for the hell of it. It was a weak round — not usually fatal at that distance but it caught the [[futures]] guy square on his control panel. He squealed, turning circles while his [[escalation]] circuits crackled and burned. Three rotations, and they smoked. The [[FIA]] jockster conked out and crashed face-down in the sand.  
Bugsy blammed out another — this one a lame-ass two-way [[confi]] — just for the hell of it. It was a weak round — not usually fatal at distance but it it was a true shot and caught the [[futures]] guy square on elections schedule. He squealed, turning circles while his [[escalation]] circuits crackled and burned. Three rotations, and they smoked out. The [[FIA]] jockster conked out and crashed face-down in the sand, little green flames licking at his annex.  


“Yee-hah!”  
“Yee-hah!”  
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“On it, boss.”  
“On it, boss.”  


Bugsy called up Operations HQ on the encrypted two-way comlink. He rocked the sing-song ham radio chit-chat idiom. “Central control, this is KPI-Delta-One-Niner filing our hourly [[stakeholder]] check-in, do you copy, over?”  
Bugsy called them in on the encrypted two-way comlink. He rocked the sing-song ham radio chit-chat idiom. “Central control, this is KPI-Delta-One-Niner filing our hourly [[stakeholder]] check-in, do you copy, over?”  


“KPI-Delta-One-Niner, this is Central Control: we read you loud and clear, Bugsy. Go ahead, over.”
“KPI-Delta-One-Niner, this is Central Control: we read you loud and clear, Bugsy. Go ahead, over.”


A static burst shook the set. Bugsy punched in. “Central Control, this is KPI-Delta-One-Niner: the coast is clear. Repeat: The coast is clear. We are fully operationalised and all systems go, Request go for [[playbook]].”   
A static burst shook the set. Bugsy punched in. “Central Control, this is KPI-Delta-One-Niner: the coast is clear. Repeat: The coast is clear. We cleared out a couple of junior bogeys — stats to fo9llow We are fully operationalised and all systems go, Request go for [[playbook]].”   


“KPI-Delta-One-Niner, this is Central Control: you are confirmed go for operation [[playbook]].” The CB operator’s tone turned familar. “Rock that house, Schweiner, you crazy sum ’bitch. Central Control — out.”
“KPI-Delta-One-Niner, this is Central Control: you are confirmed go for operation [[playbook]].” The CB operator’s tone turned familar. “Rock that house, Schweiner, you crazy sum ’bitch. Central Control — out.”
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Boone flipped off the safety catch on his wingsuit, caught the buffet, and ''dived''.
Boone flipped off the safety catch on his wingsuit, caught the buffet, and ''dived''.
<center>***</center>
Schweiner flipped the rig onto auto and started to tool up. The rig steered itself.
Schweiner took a moment to take in the grandeur of the desert. The windscreen gave a rich panorama. The mountains swept up to a vertical, levelling off to a table four thousand metres above the valley floor. They rose like — like — well, like ''Olympus'', above the Serengeti. High up on the ''gipfel'' the setting sun picked out the eagles circling the summit. Suddenly, one wing-morphed and dropped. Schweiner double-took: That is one ''unit'' of a hunting bird — some kind of monstrous condor. The majestic predator seemed to drifting so serenely down from the peak, but Schweiner knew it was dropping like a bullet towards some hapless creature on the valley floor.
“Poor bastard,” Schweiner murmured as he slipped into Kevlar body-armour. He wondered where the prey was — anything bigger than a rabbit should who up on the dash. He checked the LIDAR feed but it still said ''zilch''.
“Huh,” he said, and flipped to heat-sensor mode. Nothing.
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