(...unWARP!)
Good evening.
FOREWORD
This story was partially inspired by the fanfic "The Rat From Perfecto" by José Ramiro Acosta Pérez. It's recommended that "The Rat From Perfecto" and "Mary" (my story) be read before reading this fanfic.
One tan-furred paw opened the rifle's firing chamber, loaded the huge dart, and shut the chamber again.
Relax, just relax, she told herself.
"Stand by," she heard on her headset.
…breathe…
Twenty metres from the bull's-eye.
She was glad to have worn pants today, as she needed to half-kneel in order to bring the rifle to position. Looking through the telescopic sight, she saw her target approaching.
She glanced down at the white lines next to the divider. This should be easy.
"Stand by at the van."
…breathe…
Fifteen metres from the bull's-eye.
She sighed, and brought the sight on her target again. From her angle, the right shoulder and chest muscles were completely open. Being one of the larger muscles of the body meant that they had more blood flow than other muscles, meaning that the tranquilliser would have a perfect spot to be injected.
…breathe…
Ten metres from the bull's-eye.
She kept her rifle steady. Sure, he was a moving target, but it's not as if he were jogging, zigzagging, or even worse, warping everywhere, which would have made everyone's shot completely impossible.
…breathe…
Nine metres from the bull's-eye.
The image in her telescope grew steadier as he approached.
…breathe…
Eight metres from the bull's-eye.
He was leaning forward, like mostly any cyclist would.
…breathe…
Seven metres from the bull's-eye.
She made her final decision and steadied her sight on his shoulder. If he should straighten up at the last moment, she would still be able to get a hit on the chest.
…breathe…
Six metres from the bull's-eye.
Her heartbeat was normal. Her breathing was normal.
…breathe…
Five metres from the bull's-eye.
Was it the same for the others?
…breathe…
Four metres from the bull's-eye.
This was almost too easy. After all, it was the rifle that did most of the work. She just had to keep it steady.
…breathe…
Three metres from the bull's-eye.
Pathetic Acme looser. Following his own set patterns like a robot. True, she was helping other loosers, but at least they were paying her getting good money for this.
…breathe…
Two metres from the bull's-eye.
…hold your breath…
One metre from the bull's-eye.
This was it.
"Fire!"
…squeeze…
Since she was shooting a dart and not a bullet, the rifle didn't go "bang" but more like a muffled "choon".
(CHOON!)
See what I mean?
Her telescope showed that her dart, with a red marker, had firmly embedded itself on the jaguar's right shoulder. Quickly, she pulled the rifle away and looked down from behind the rampart.
She could see two other darts embedded on him as well, on the other shoulder and the right thigh. The fourth would be either on the left lower back or maybe even the gluteus maximus.
The black van turned into the street and sped toward the wobbling cyclist. The vehicle slowed as it approached, and the door slid open. Dark figures inside reached out to catch the feline just as he lost consciousness, and pulled him inside, bike and all, before he could topple to the pavement. The door slid shut and the van sped off, and it all took less than ten seconds.
"PERFECT!" yelled Montana.
"Consciences can also be revived, but the CPR procedure for that is rather unpleasant." — The J.A.M.
Tress MacNeille
Charles Adler
Danny Cooksey
Joe Alaskey
RESPIRA
with appearances by
Cree Summer Franks
Wolf Blitzer
and The J.A.M. as himself
Written by The J.A.M. (but please call me J.A.M.)
Edited by Jerry D. Withers
To Furrball, Rottin Kid, and José, for the inspiration.