Scotty Rave
Member
In spite of the clumsy and disorganised first phase of the endeavour, they had somehow made it. The murder, all but the one member who was still waiting in the van and maintaining a position of central command, hunkered beneath the tarpaulin, waiting anxiously as mere moments dragged on and on for what felt like an eternity. Half of them were expecting to move the sheet to find the sun rising over the ocean. Soon enough, however, they felt the floor of the barge move beneath them, as the towboat powered up and pushed them out towards the open sea, and the Piper.
Rotor, hunkered down among the group of now mortal-form Tagers, drew her Midnight Special from the sealed holster on the back of her belt and loaded it. “I doubt they’ll move the tarpaulin. There’s no rain, so they won’t need to shield the cargo. We should be okay for now. Once they move their load on-board and we’re a safe enough distance away, I’ll send word to Inaba, and then she can have Fog’s men move in. All of you just be ready for any added security they send with it, okay? Okay?” She was nervous. They all were, to varying degrees, but she did not have the protection of a Ta’ge symbiont dwelling inside her soul. She could not suffer the same punishment as them. A Dhohanoid could easily rip her in two. No, forget nervous, she was scared. She fought to steady the trembling hand wrapped around the grip of her gun.
The dark mass of the Piper loomed before the barge and towboat. Her crew were already preparing their precious cargo to be hauled across by crane. The secret interlopers could hear voices above them, but nothing especially distinct yet. Orders being given, that sort of thing, probably. A thing brought its head above the surface and made a guttural sound towards another. Not the slurping, gibbering squawks of Deep Ones, but a gross noise, like flapping tents and flatulence. There was a wet thump, not far from the edge of their hiding spot, and something dragged itself up over the side. A second body, its companion to which it had been communicating, followed after.
At last came the grind of metal chains as the cargo started lowering towards them.
Rotor, hunkered down among the group of now mortal-form Tagers, drew her Midnight Special from the sealed holster on the back of her belt and loaded it. “I doubt they’ll move the tarpaulin. There’s no rain, so they won’t need to shield the cargo. We should be okay for now. Once they move their load on-board and we’re a safe enough distance away, I’ll send word to Inaba, and then she can have Fog’s men move in. All of you just be ready for any added security they send with it, okay? Okay?” She was nervous. They all were, to varying degrees, but she did not have the protection of a Ta’ge symbiont dwelling inside her soul. She could not suffer the same punishment as them. A Dhohanoid could easily rip her in two. No, forget nervous, she was scared. She fought to steady the trembling hand wrapped around the grip of her gun.
The dark mass of the Piper loomed before the barge and towboat. Her crew were already preparing their precious cargo to be hauled across by crane. The secret interlopers could hear voices above them, but nothing especially distinct yet. Orders being given, that sort of thing, probably. A thing brought its head above the surface and made a guttural sound towards another. Not the slurping, gibbering squawks of Deep Ones, but a gross noise, like flapping tents and flatulence. There was a wet thump, not far from the edge of their hiding spot, and something dragged itself up over the side. A second body, its companion to which it had been communicating, followed after.
At last came the grind of metal chains as the cargo started lowering towards them.
Last edited:
