It had been too long a game for Jamal to think straight. The pressure of
being on football's biggest stage was finally setting in as he realized
exactly what it was he was trying to do: lose while presenting a façade
that he was trying his hardest. His heart told he could do better.
The voice crackled over the comm again, this time grim over something. "Mr. Henrix, this is the security team lead again. We have taken care of the problem. You are free to play like you wish."
All that he heard then was static, but his head suddenly had the sounds of the game. He was rejuvenated, and he intended to finish the game that way. But first, he would have to overcome the Raider's defense. And there was only one proven way to get through: the Suicide Spread.
*****
The Gundam was almost quivering, Robin saw. It's bulk seemed to twitch with fright at the presence of the Blackheart below it, the Suit that was effortlessly hoisting him into the air like he was a doll.
There was a sudden flare as 02 ignited its boosters and leapt backwards into the air. There was a brief static burst before it knocked a hole into the ground, breaking into the sewer systems. Then before she could do anything, it had vanished like a shadow beneath the light.
She turned to the Colonel, who was watching the hole, almost with satisfaction. He laughed suddenly, a harsh sound of victory.
"What are you laughing at? You just let the enemy get away. You failed our mission. Do you really think that's funny?"
"Do what you will. Just remember, while you are busy doing what you believe to be the 'right' thing, I have a reason for everything I do. All my movements have been calculated so that the desired outcome. If you go and screw it up, remember that the mission failed because it was your fault. I will not stop you, since experience teaches best."
"Fine." With that, she pounced into the hole after 02 and the man who piloted it.
Unfortunately, the dark hid him perfectly and she was unable to find him even with searchlights. She only found the Gundam, abandoned for the time. Slowly she exited her suit and climbed down, curious about it now that the pilot was gone. She grabbed her laptop as she left and found a dry spot on the leg where she could link up. After a moment's pause, she proceeded to begin to dismantle the protective firewalls.
*****
The container fit snugly into the area where the air would begin cycling through in fifteen minutes. Exactly as predicted. The guards had been more intent on the game than paying attention and had been repaid with a shot in the head. Rynn had then discarded his empty gun and grabbed one of their assault rifles. After a moment's consideration, he left the grenades. They would cause too much damage and would inadvertently cause everyone to flee the stadium. That would be bad.
He turned and left the room, the gun tucked beneath his black trench coat. The sunglasses hid his eyes from anyone who knew him. Anyone who came too close would get shot. All he had to do was escape now and everything would be all right.
The trail back was odd. Something was missing, but he could not place his finger on it. The spot where he had shot Vick was unoccupied, a thin trickle of bloodspots leading away.
So somebody took pity and carried him to the morgue.
Slowly, more cautiously, he began to slide into the shadows, trying to escape. No one was around, and he sprinted.
*****
The Spread was working perfectly. Designed to present so many options to the quarterback as possible, it called for the offensive line to deal and take punishing blows so that the running backs and receivers could get through. The only problem was that it ate up linemen like there was no tomorrow.
7:31 remaining in the quarter. 2nd down, three yards left. It looks like this Falcons offense has finally come to life. At the rate they're crossing the field, they can tie it at 27 all.
I agree, Tom, but they'll need a way to get those linemen back in the game or their gonna be staring straight at the defense from hell.
Jamal ignored the pair of them, concentrating instead on how to live this one last set of plays. He ran over the figures once more and decided his plan. With only 19 yards before the touchdown, he would run the ball himself, even if it meant possibly getting injured again. He remembered once in the regular season when he had been forced to run against the Tampa Bay defense. It was nowhere near as formidable as the one that had won their only Super Bowl but had been potent enough to knock him out of the game with a concussion.
He clapped, breaking the huddle, and took his position at the shotgun. He felt the snap break into his hands and he gripped the ball, pump faking once, twice, three times before taking off. He slipped ghost-like through the holes that existed in the wounded defense and began to sprint.
Fifteen.
He felt elated. He was doing it. He was running for a touchdown in the Super Bowl, his dream since first joining his high school football team.
Ten.
No one was close. He could feel it. He held the ball high over his head and grinned like a little boy.
Five.
The defender flattened him from behind. In the one moment that he had lost thought of running, he had slowed enough that the single man had been able to come up behind him. He felt the ball slip out of his outstretched hand and watched as it arched away from him. He hit the ground. Wincing as the 300 pounds of lineman stomped past him, he jumped up to try and recover. With a breath of relief, he saw the ball roll out-of-bounds.
He heard the coach. "What the hell were you thinking?! What makes you think you had the right to parade like this is your high school field? Get over here. I'm benching you for the next few plays."
The world froze as he heard this. "Coach. Please, let me stay in. It won't happen again, I promise. Please, just let me stay in!"
The end was almost a wail of despair.
*****
Why is the helicopter having problems now?
Nyroska's copter had been forced to land because there was a problem with the rotor. Even now, the crew was making emergency repairs in hopes of getting him out of the area before all hell broke loose. But it wasn't happening fast enough. There was no time. He stood waiting.
There was a feeling of unease in his gut, however.
*****
Duo Maxwell heard the announcer in the background. 3:31 remaining. His pack of tools were at his side as he twirled through the air-processing chamber, checking the canisters for the poisons that existed.
I must do this, for my sake and that of everyone here.
"Bingo." He had discovered an odd looking container in the area for the next process cycle. He began to scan it for a defect that he could exploit, rubbing his fingers over it like a man would his lover. There was none to be found. His sigh permeated the air.
He pulled out a large wrench and began to twist, hoping for the best.
*****
He was free. No longer did Rynn have to worry about those in the stadium. He only had to find his Suit and escape. He made his way slowly to the abandoned parking complex where he had hidden it.
When he arrived after a minute and a half, he breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had been disturbed. He climbed up into the Archer.
Based on the frame of either a woman or a thin, lithe man, his Suit was slender and agile, its weapons a pair of Beam Sabers and bow that launched both energy shots and exploding quarrels that could stun a Gundam. As a last resort, he could jettison his cockpit and detonate the Suit into a giant bomb. He had never had to use it.
As he powered to escape, he heard a voice come over his comm. "Where do you think you're going?"
He didn't bother to look at the view. "Who wants to know?"
"The ghost of a fallen pilot." An explosion rocked the complex where he was hidden, forcing Rynn to look. Vick stared back at him, a sneer cut across his face. "I've come to claim the blood of a traitor."
"What makes you so certain?" His voice was shaken, but his usual arrogance was returning. "How are you going to stop me when the entire stadium is about to die."
He received a sneer in return. "That no longer matters, as long as I can kill you!"
He came flying out of the shadows, his Suit glistening from the sudden emergence into the glare of the streetlights. It stood tall, reminiscent of a bat. The wings could spread to allow for flight and fold over for a flexible shield. They could also, if the need arose, be jettisoned to allow even greater mobility. The only weapon was an extendible cloth that glowed with energy[1].
"Now, Rynn Skye, the time has come for you to die. I challenge you to a duel to the death!"
*****
I'm writing again. Ever so slowly, I'm starting to write. Thanks to all my reviewers for leaving me feedback. Keep up the good work. And not to sound greedy, but I want more so I know what I'm doing right or wrong. Also, whenever I have a number in brackets, like this ([1]), I'll leave a note at the end, preceded by that number in brackets, explaining what it is.
So until next chapter, Colonel
[1] To get a better idea of what this is, think something along the lines of the Master Gundam's kow-tow cloth from G Gundam. For those of you who still have no idea what I'm talking about, think of a glowing towel that can stretch up to 50 meters and has the power of Epyon's Heat Rods.
The voice crackled over the comm again, this time grim over something. "Mr. Henrix, this is the security team lead again. We have taken care of the problem. You are free to play like you wish."
All that he heard then was static, but his head suddenly had the sounds of the game. He was rejuvenated, and he intended to finish the game that way. But first, he would have to overcome the Raider's defense. And there was only one proven way to get through: the Suicide Spread.
*****
The Gundam was almost quivering, Robin saw. It's bulk seemed to twitch with fright at the presence of the Blackheart below it, the Suit that was effortlessly hoisting him into the air like he was a doll.
There was a sudden flare as 02 ignited its boosters and leapt backwards into the air. There was a brief static burst before it knocked a hole into the ground, breaking into the sewer systems. Then before she could do anything, it had vanished like a shadow beneath the light.
She turned to the Colonel, who was watching the hole, almost with satisfaction. He laughed suddenly, a harsh sound of victory.
"What are you laughing at? You just let the enemy get away. You failed our mission. Do you really think that's funny?"
"Do what you will. Just remember, while you are busy doing what you believe to be the 'right' thing, I have a reason for everything I do. All my movements have been calculated so that the desired outcome. If you go and screw it up, remember that the mission failed because it was your fault. I will not stop you, since experience teaches best."
"Fine." With that, she pounced into the hole after 02 and the man who piloted it.
Unfortunately, the dark hid him perfectly and she was unable to find him even with searchlights. She only found the Gundam, abandoned for the time. Slowly she exited her suit and climbed down, curious about it now that the pilot was gone. She grabbed her laptop as she left and found a dry spot on the leg where she could link up. After a moment's pause, she proceeded to begin to dismantle the protective firewalls.
*****
The container fit snugly into the area where the air would begin cycling through in fifteen minutes. Exactly as predicted. The guards had been more intent on the game than paying attention and had been repaid with a shot in the head. Rynn had then discarded his empty gun and grabbed one of their assault rifles. After a moment's consideration, he left the grenades. They would cause too much damage and would inadvertently cause everyone to flee the stadium. That would be bad.
He turned and left the room, the gun tucked beneath his black trench coat. The sunglasses hid his eyes from anyone who knew him. Anyone who came too close would get shot. All he had to do was escape now and everything would be all right.
The trail back was odd. Something was missing, but he could not place his finger on it. The spot where he had shot Vick was unoccupied, a thin trickle of bloodspots leading away.
So somebody took pity and carried him to the morgue.
Slowly, more cautiously, he began to slide into the shadows, trying to escape. No one was around, and he sprinted.
*****
The Spread was working perfectly. Designed to present so many options to the quarterback as possible, it called for the offensive line to deal and take punishing blows so that the running backs and receivers could get through. The only problem was that it ate up linemen like there was no tomorrow.
7:31 remaining in the quarter. 2nd down, three yards left. It looks like this Falcons offense has finally come to life. At the rate they're crossing the field, they can tie it at 27 all.
I agree, Tom, but they'll need a way to get those linemen back in the game or their gonna be staring straight at the defense from hell.
Jamal ignored the pair of them, concentrating instead on how to live this one last set of plays. He ran over the figures once more and decided his plan. With only 19 yards before the touchdown, he would run the ball himself, even if it meant possibly getting injured again. He remembered once in the regular season when he had been forced to run against the Tampa Bay defense. It was nowhere near as formidable as the one that had won their only Super Bowl but had been potent enough to knock him out of the game with a concussion.
He clapped, breaking the huddle, and took his position at the shotgun. He felt the snap break into his hands and he gripped the ball, pump faking once, twice, three times before taking off. He slipped ghost-like through the holes that existed in the wounded defense and began to sprint.
Fifteen.
He felt elated. He was doing it. He was running for a touchdown in the Super Bowl, his dream since first joining his high school football team.
Ten.
No one was close. He could feel it. He held the ball high over his head and grinned like a little boy.
Five.
The defender flattened him from behind. In the one moment that he had lost thought of running, he had slowed enough that the single man had been able to come up behind him. He felt the ball slip out of his outstretched hand and watched as it arched away from him. He hit the ground. Wincing as the 300 pounds of lineman stomped past him, he jumped up to try and recover. With a breath of relief, he saw the ball roll out-of-bounds.
He heard the coach. "What the hell were you thinking?! What makes you think you had the right to parade like this is your high school field? Get over here. I'm benching you for the next few plays."
The world froze as he heard this. "Coach. Please, let me stay in. It won't happen again, I promise. Please, just let me stay in!"
The end was almost a wail of despair.
*****
Why is the helicopter having problems now?
Nyroska's copter had been forced to land because there was a problem with the rotor. Even now, the crew was making emergency repairs in hopes of getting him out of the area before all hell broke loose. But it wasn't happening fast enough. There was no time. He stood waiting.
There was a feeling of unease in his gut, however.
*****
Duo Maxwell heard the announcer in the background. 3:31 remaining. His pack of tools were at his side as he twirled through the air-processing chamber, checking the canisters for the poisons that existed.
I must do this, for my sake and that of everyone here.
"Bingo." He had discovered an odd looking container in the area for the next process cycle. He began to scan it for a defect that he could exploit, rubbing his fingers over it like a man would his lover. There was none to be found. His sigh permeated the air.
He pulled out a large wrench and began to twist, hoping for the best.
*****
He was free. No longer did Rynn have to worry about those in the stadium. He only had to find his Suit and escape. He made his way slowly to the abandoned parking complex where he had hidden it.
When he arrived after a minute and a half, he breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had been disturbed. He climbed up into the Archer.
Based on the frame of either a woman or a thin, lithe man, his Suit was slender and agile, its weapons a pair of Beam Sabers and bow that launched both energy shots and exploding quarrels that could stun a Gundam. As a last resort, he could jettison his cockpit and detonate the Suit into a giant bomb. He had never had to use it.
As he powered to escape, he heard a voice come over his comm. "Where do you think you're going?"
He didn't bother to look at the view. "Who wants to know?"
"The ghost of a fallen pilot." An explosion rocked the complex where he was hidden, forcing Rynn to look. Vick stared back at him, a sneer cut across his face. "I've come to claim the blood of a traitor."
"What makes you so certain?" His voice was shaken, but his usual arrogance was returning. "How are you going to stop me when the entire stadium is about to die."
He received a sneer in return. "That no longer matters, as long as I can kill you!"
He came flying out of the shadows, his Suit glistening from the sudden emergence into the glare of the streetlights. It stood tall, reminiscent of a bat. The wings could spread to allow for flight and fold over for a flexible shield. They could also, if the need arose, be jettisoned to allow even greater mobility. The only weapon was an extendible cloth that glowed with energy[1].
"Now, Rynn Skye, the time has come for you to die. I challenge you to a duel to the death!"
*****
I'm writing again. Ever so slowly, I'm starting to write. Thanks to all my reviewers for leaving me feedback. Keep up the good work. And not to sound greedy, but I want more so I know what I'm doing right or wrong. Also, whenever I have a number in brackets, like this ([1]), I'll leave a note at the end, preceded by that number in brackets, explaining what it is.
So until next chapter, Colonel
[1] To get a better idea of what this is, think something along the lines of the Master Gundam's kow-tow cloth from G Gundam. For those of you who still have no idea what I'm talking about, think of a glowing towel that can stretch up to 50 meters and has the power of Epyon's Heat Rods.