July 24th, 2030
Allison Taggart, the stunning cute teenager with medium, wavy hair of the mustard-green variety, dyed from a natural brunette color, otherwise known formally as Allie, returned with better weapons to the tunnels, expecting Lincoln waiting for her, as well as a dead Lemuel Porter. Turned out, Lemuel was still alive and breathing, which meant there was no dent put in anyone's plans. "Fucking Christ, you lucky bastard!"
Lemuel wasn't out of the ballpark just yet, still gravely injured by Lincoln and left to have a better life. Only, that was not, nor had it ever, been on his mind. But the strong words of the ex-Freight made a mark and burrowed into his brain, and strangely enough, things made sense. It was crazy, and he was crazy to agree to that madman, that madman who ran with domestic terrorists as perceived by the world, so christening themselves as anarchists- being too stupid and deluded to know the truth of themselves. Lemuel contemplated over his vengeance quest, reconsidering that maybe Lincoln wasn't anymore a ravenous person than he was just minutes ago. "Why did you run away?!"
All the while, Lemy was bloodied and broken up, and Allie helped him get out of his vest. Allie placed him on her shoulder, supporting his size before she relocated them back to their base. "No way we could have beaten him like that!" Allie stated. "The files say he's a pheno, let's face it, we didn't have the ordinance to kill him!"
"What was the point of this?!" Lemuel croaked out.
Damn it, you punk... Allie was beginning to feel too hot. He was supposed to kill you!
"We're getting out of here!" Allie dropped one Matrix Portal down, and pushed Lemuel into the portal when it appeared, stretching out across the floor in front of him. "Down you go!"
"Allie!" Lemuel hated the fact that no one would break his fall on the landing pad of the portal's other end.
"Hang in there, fuzzy hairdo," Allie laughed away, heading back into the room. For the most part, everything seemed destroyed, and the leftover of Lincoln's mess still needed to be thoroughly destroyed, scorched from the world. Allie pulled out a lighter, beginning to bring fire to the room before she took her leave, hiding any and all evidence that could bs traced back to them. No way could she have it, afford such a mistake that would jeopardize her own operations, while Lemuel was concentrated on his own. I was told this Lincoln was insanely merciless...
Lemy laid down on the ground of a different floor of a building, their base, finding it easier to gain some shut-eye. He was emotionally drained and badly bruised, far beyond the point of being able to avoid a doctor sniffing out for answers on what had happened to his body. His eyes went toward the table, staring down a med-kit and a salt jar. "Hkkkkk..."
Allie jumped down from a second portal that formed from the ceiling, with her own anti-pheno shotgun firmly in her hands. "Guess we don't need to use this bad boy, huh?"
"Patch me up, woman!"
"Alright, already!" Allie placed the weapon on the table, trading it for the med-kit. "You'd better hold still and be patient, you hear me? Dumbass!"
"Hurry, this shit hurts!" Lemuel seethed in agony.
"I'd better find some alcohol..." Allie shot her eyes around.
"Alc- Alcohol?!" Lemuel gulped.
Act III: Further Into Darkness, Chapter VI: Retaliate
Lemuel was strong enough to grip and fire guns, but his uncontrollable wincing and crying at the basic of common wartime injuries did not tickle Allie's fancy, nor did it color her impressed, even when Lemuel was sure he was successful to score her. It was an act, but so were other things, necessary things to further her goals. Not her goals, just her doing another's wetwork. Never made it pretty or easy, but at the end of the day, everyone had to be pleased. Everyone on this side of the game, of course.
Lemuel had gone out cold, healing from those injuries he had received from Lincoln right after Allie extracted all the shell fragments from him. Fortunately for him, not too many of those entered him, and only one was too close to his beating heart. That wasn't good news for Allie herself, hence why she made the call, breaking radio silence. "Hey, it's me... We've come across a major setback. Lincoln got the boy but he spared him!"
"The Lemuel brat is still playing at the party?!" Codewords on his end, but Allie knew what he referred to.
"I did everything by the book!" Allie assured, voice nearly shaking into the cellphone. "I left before he could get me, and I made sure it all seemed like the boy's own agenda. I had him, and I fucked it up by missing him!"
"Okay- Allie, that's fine, as long as anything isn't infecting us. I'll talk to my other partygoers to see if they can help with this... White cake fiasco. Son of a bitch is working his way through my guests, I can't have that. There will be another talk with him made as soon as possible."
"Uncle, what about Lemy?" Allie offered to kill him if it was McMahon's request. "Do we still need him?"
"As a matter of fact... Keep him pleased, I'm pulling you two off the white cake. Call incoming for further instructions."
"Yes, uncle, goodbye," Allie agreed, hanging up. She placed the cellphone, one of those disposable, untrackable types, down on the table. She made a snarling face, banging her folded fists against the table, making all items clank and jump about, letting an echo rattle through the tiny room.
Windows were closed, almost one step away from being barricaded. Three of the four walls were decorated with board setup, revealing blueprints and plans on their booby-trap tunnel system, as well as a clear wanted poster for Lincoln, a rapsheet of all his crimes to date, and more genuine newspaper clippings of the Louds' exploits as apparent heroes. The very idea Allie and Lemuel rejected, disregarding Lincoln as a misplaced villain trying to play boy scout. The two also had some guns sitting in the closet, nothing of the fancy, advanced type however, so that Allie could maintain the lie where she was not in full league with anyone higher than them. The lie that she was working for a senator from the government itself, helping him terminate the thorn on his side.
That, she truly fucked up by being slow, which was a mocking joke to her. Lincoln was gone, abd Lemuel still breathed to prove a potential loose end... Now what did McMahon plan for them? She gave no thought, only letting herself, her actions today, be defined by her failure, and vice versa. "So fucking close..."
Young Allie adjusted herself firmly, eyes dead, looking back at the scene. The odd spectacle right out of a dramatic, action flick. The trailer home was surrounded by a horde of officers, guns pointed at a tall, burly man with a whole set of facial hair, a thick beard, and a beer gut. He held a knife, stained with the blood of Allie's mother, moving about randomly due to the bath salfs in his system. The standoff ended as soon as dear Tammy Taggart, a hooket so terribly unlucky and resentful of Allie, had died after the sixteenth stab to her chest.
To hell with daddy, Allie only ever wanted mother's love. And then some.
An officer escorted her away, telling her to close her eyes. The sirens sang out among the yelling, it's blue and red lights going off like fireworks, and for a brief second, there was a nice enjoyment to watch the lights alone. And then, the gunfire erupted, making Allie jump in response. She feared the damage, she feared the gruesome cruelty of this world. And naturally, she had her first-ever glimpse of true human nature, essentially becoming a spec in that blood river, flooded with skeletons of the dead and fallen. Skeletons and bodies alike, forever drowning in the thick, cemented stream that never stopped, nor did it ever get shallow.
Life did that to her, and in response, she perceived it to be sinister in nature, a true injustice that had happened to that little girl she was. Everyone let her down. Everyone... Until he came to take her away. He who offered her a home away from the ghettos, the dreadful place where white trash resided, lurking about every corner and crack, ready to inflict their unholy damage.
If not for him, if not for Peter McMahon, the uncle she didn't know about...
She could barely say she was thankful for him, but what he offered on the table surely changed the board by a lot for the growing teenager. The way she saw it, Allie harbored a deep hatred for both the junkies and the men in blue, the pigs who never made it in time to prevent Tammy's death- and even then, her mother had never been to find of her in between those years. It begged the question... And then it always kept hitting her back; Allie had always tried her hardest to make Tammy fully love her.
And the world would never truly be fair. It never was. Never.
Allie went out, unable to remain put. Things weren't calm, things were never calm with her. A dark purple sweater hid her Colt 1911 tucked away behind, held up perfectly by her skinny jeans of a green color. She was still a teenager with teenager needs, this being a fresh pack of tampons for the next batches of periods to date. It wasn't the ideal lifestyle, but her female body required it, just as it did a great many other things.
The gun was there as contingency, meant to be used for bad calls, but neither of them had run into any such problem as of yet. She had usually been itching to use it, being drunk and trigger-happy from her past time learning and training around firearms. She found that she had a love for the automatic rifles, no questions asked.
Venturing into the commercial area a few blocks away from their safehouse, Allie headed into a pharmacy store, wanting to finish her little personal errand as soon as possible. The outside was dark and gloomy, much like her nightmares and perspective of the world, and it changed to an upbeat, positive atmosphere when she entered the store, feeling slightly joyous with the store. It was brightly illuminating, and the employees on station were humans. Drone, but preferable humans superior over the sinners, welcoming the quiet Allie inside. She could have given them the finger for all she cared, but there was no time for it.
She went to the women essentials aisle, looking around for the tampons. She found them on the middle row, snatching up a pack and speed-walked to the cashier counter at the front end. "Hey, boss, get me a bag for this," she told the male cashier. "This is real embarrassing."
"Yes, ma'am!" The cashier scanned the tampons. "Okay, that's gonna be six-thirteen, please."
"Yeahhhh, here's a ten." Allie pulled out a crisp ten-dollar bill. "Hey, keep the change, no receipt."
"Oh- Ah, thank you!" The cashier finalized the purchase and placed Allie's tampons into a plastic bag. "Here you are, have a good evening."
Allie gave a half-smirk and danced her way out of the store, heading back to her hideout. Nothing exciting happened around, but she was wishing she would bump into a nice girl around and les out with them. Of course, a woman much like her can dream. She had been recently thinking about it, the merits of life, settling down as much as she could with these demons circling the inside of her fucked-up head. Married to a woman understanding of her, having adopted one or two girls, and none of that shit she'd lived through, not for any of them. No ugliness, no abuse, no nothing she never wanted to see again.
Then again, Allie gave herself up, becoming a borrowed gun, a young one at that, for McMahon's needs. Fighting phenos working for his enemies, kidnapping clones, blackmailing and framing a trio of teenage girls, utilizing victims of Lincoln's Freight crimes and siccing them on him to make a kill opening, you name it, she'd be deployed for it, and counting.
Allie Taggart, the niece used by Peter McMahon to get things done in secret, the platonic father figure to give her what he could afford; a home, maids and butlers, education. And, away from the normal spectrum, his money acquired trainers of all sorts to re-condition and strengthen Allie. She knew enough, or so deemed by uncle, that she went out doing assignments on his behalf, from small things like surveillance to assassinations. While other girls were out with their boyfriends, raving wildly at parties, Allie was hitting targets at the range, honing her shotgun skills. Shells, buckshot, and the special Dragon's Breath incendiary rounds- she toyed with them and became more insanely dangerous with each and every day.
Things could get better... Surely they would, and once McMahon was pleased with his own place, a hundred percent problem-free, Allie could relax and return home. That would be the end, and for what it was worth, for what she believed and knew, she had great fun in running around with no supervision, backed by the hand guaranteed a clean slate, no suspicion from anyone. Well, anyone among law enforcement, if she got technical about it. All she had to do was make sure Lemuel didn't get too smart or look closely at her., and she was home free.
Still... She messed it up, which got her recalled from completing the assignment. "Fuck shit!" she cursed under her breath. "Fuck me!"
Her throwaway phone rang out as she crossed the next block, making her stop and stand at the corner of two buildings, answering the call. "Alpha-Lima-Lima-India-Echo on standby."
Not McMahon this time, but the mutual contact they had, the one that tossed the dirty work clear and directly. "Freelancers are still in play. Targets are core Five and Scythe terrorists members seeking to decrypt and weaponize remnants of the Black Network. It is imperative that you clean house before Kapacity Korp loses its collective credibility."
"Right, all the blueprints for the extreme advanced firepower are floating around..." Allie rubbed her forehead, already feeling the sweat coming. "Traffic the coordinates for the drops, I'll have to handle it."
"You are to engage through stealth tactics, or we will lose them to the wild."
"It could have been through silence only," Allie knew. "How many on the menu?"
"Eighteen in total. Ten on Five, and the rest for Scythe. Out of all of these, only three are ex-military. I would suggest you and Mr. Lemuel Porter working as a team for these operations. Six drops around the city, come alone and inconspicuous. Here's drop one-"
Later
"Five ringleader David O'Malley operates only the northeastern side of the states... Surely you've heard on him. Made it on America's Most Wanted, with all his little dipshits he calls friends. CIA surveillance can only go so far before they spend all their money on drones. Infiltration was attempted a few times, but they've been one step ahead. He has holed himself up in a little building he had reinforced severely, up to the point that it's now a certified fallout shelter, so suggested by the infrared vision. Can't see heat though those doors and walls for shit. But you can..."
Allie perched herself across the target building, looking through the special ultra-vision sniper rifle that let her see how many people were inside, and where they moved to. Four guys, two of them closer to the entryway. She began to squeeze the trigger.
"Don't forget one thing. You are not to suggest this was the doing of a pro shooter, and you are not to leave evidence behind. That being said, you'll have three hours to get to the next target before they radio each other in, and make no mistake. They will know they are without leader."
Allie fired, taking down one with a headshot, and another with a body shot. For the next two, she let them run out while she fire half the remaining rounds at random, and shot them dead on the street before they could escape.
Elsewhere
Allie leaned against the window inside a building, right on the second floor. Next to her, a grenade, a pocket mirror, and a dead body surrounded by a pool of blood kept her company until the second target came. She had the window open and her hand holding the mirror up, looking down at the alleyway below from the reflection.
"A black Sedan will be coming out of a chop shop owned by the local gangsters. Bonus if you clean that up too, but the car is key. Derek Mason made it to the top by decapitating a lot of people, and some not involved with any such issue, but there you have it, a true psycho with a face he scarred himself. I left explosives for you, or you can do this with a gun. Your choice."
Allie cooked and threw the grenade down as the matching vehicle rode by with such slowness, making her really believe it was the one. The thing went off, blowing up the vehicle, the force of the explosion shaking the building and setting off other car alarms.
Later
"One hour and fifteen minutes left."
"I won't make the deadline, I would need five of me, and no way I can ask Lemuel to help, he's all fucked up."
"In the final thirty minutes, I can pull out the speed card, just keep hitting the rest of Five. Eight more HVTs left."
Next stop was a Russian, proving there was no shortage of diversity among the factions. This one was a bit of a pickle; she had to bypass the bouncer of a local club to get inside a secret meeting where Aleksei Rostovich, an old bastard with an accent not Americanized as of yet. Allie had no way of knowing who was who with the sniper rifle. This called for drastic measures- and by drastic, Allie used a sloppy, amateur method. She fired at the club wildly, then raced to the back. She'd suspect that shed have over ten bodyguards, likely the two parties coming out, unless they all got parabud- and Allie got her answer when a muffled gunfight occurred from inside. She waited for the escapees to come running to her, to their deaths, and it would end this next mission.
Elsewhere
Less than forty-five minutes left... I recommend a break-"
"I'm at the fourth place right now."
"You're in luck. There are currently three targets on station, and this is strictly Five territory, feel free to drop them all."
"Hell yeah!" Allie held the C4 detonator firmly in her hands, all explosives placed on the foundation of the abandoned building, all ready to be demolished. It was a perfect brewery for the homemade, a place closed off and made imperfect, a home fit for the homeless, the crackhead, and the abandoned. Someone like Allie if she had run away, most definitely. "Ooh, gotta go!" She hung up and set off the explosives, sending the ten-story building right to its knees. Dust formed around it, concealing the remains of the rubble and crushed bodies.
Time had gotten close to the minus-thirty mark, and she expected a call with different instructions real soon. Man, was she hungry for a cheeseburger. And what could she want now but to have a pair of them, some warm, golden fries, and a nice medium coke at McDonald's. None of that pickle and and onion shit, either, extra ketchup on that bitch. Unf, momma!
Allie had a hardcore craving for it, quickly locating one not far from here, when she should have left further than the distance trekked. She threw the uselesd detonator in the trash of the bathroom, making sure to break it in pieces before dumping it down the bin. Then, it was eating time.
Five minutes later, and three people in between her and the food, Allie was taking bites and stuffing fries into her skinny body, chugging it down with a sip of her nice, large coke. All the fries were gone by the time she had devoured half of her last cheeseburger, and the call had quickly come from her unnamed contact. She talked with her mouth full. "Yesh?"
"Final Five assets are top priority, will be captured after the word will be dispatched to FBI agents. They will use Site Delta to hold them, location will be given. Surveillance and grid access through high rise. Then, call it a day."
"Considering there are still more to hit..." Allie would not be satisfied until she finished, even if she had already been getting tired. "Hang on-" She swallowed her load.
Later
She brought out the fancy uniform this time around, and with a real need to make it count for all she knew. Four holdees either in private cells or under guard in the interrogation rooms- not a challeging issue for the girl, but coming to the checkpoint right at the entrance was to be as quiet and unnoticeable as possible, and that was if she were to go that way.
She didn't, choosing an undetected way into the site via rooftop, kicking in a grate and roping herself down. She worked her way through the floor with nothing but a tazer and a handgun on her. She went around shocking the security unconscious, and when necessary, throwing kicks and punches before any such security became lucky and grabbed their weapon. It continued for three floors, getting her real heart-pumping and hot under her uniform.
She reached the cells, located below the main floor, and was surprised to see her four targets all dead, blasted mercilessly beyond facial recognition. This was the doings of her "partner" Lemuel, viciously greeting Allie under the barrel of his high-capacity KSG. "Allie...?"
"What the fuck- You're supposed to be healing!"
"Yes, well...- What are you-?" Lemuel led himself topside, with a nervous Allie following. "Were you here for them?"
"Yes-" Allie admitted, unable to hide the truth of her real masters. "I was-"
"Radio traffic kept relaying messages about these guys all night ig seems," Lemuel told his partner. "I wasn't awake through them all, only hearing the one where cops or whatever got four. I figured might as well, right? Still pisses me off in how I let Loud beat me."
"He beat us both..." Allie connected the dots in a custom design, working it in her favor. "Yeah, I did the same, came here to kill these fuckers. Nice to know we think alike, dude." She smiled at him with big, cutesy eyes, pulling him to stop for a big, mildly dry kiss unto his lips. This was a part of the deception, her being head over heels for him to some degree, being Lemuel's lover and suggesting the objectives of McMahon's agenda. She helped uncle sic the boy on Lincoln with the right hate fuel, which remained burning brightly, and Lemuel had to be made to hate Lincoln, that part was a given. Hate, that's all there was. All there is, and all there could be. All that must never have been...
Hate, wrapped under this false love Allie offered to him, giving him a substantial reason to keep his head in the gutter, and his suspicion of her toned down to the zero. "What now?"
"I guess we go back now..." Lemuel surely loved her kisses. "Also, I found a little pack of tampons..."
At his snickering, Allie's mouth dropped, and she swung a medium punch. "Hey, don't you dare joke about that! Damn you for looking in the bag, Lemy!"
"Have a nice period, hahaha!" There was humor to be captured among his trading, obtained and enjoyed by her, when she didn't expect to find it, and she did, and there was an emotional break in it, relieving her from the layers of death.
In the end, Allie and Lemuel were only a pair of dumb kids playing with fire. And when one played with fire...
She dismantled Five, dealing a big blow to the organization, but Scythe still needed disruption. That, she could hold off safely, and with Lemuel's help this time around, and this had to be covered up, under the guise of-
"Vigilantes, huh?"
"Hmmm?" Allie didn't understand his words. "What about them?"
"That's... That's what we basically were back there."
"Oh, no, I-" But she gave it some thought, and it made sense. "Oh, I guess you're right. Public safety does matter..."
"Do you maybe...?" Lemuel recounted Lincoln's words of rage and truth. Petty vengeance was all there was, but perhaps he could redirect it, maybe Lemuel could focus away from Lincoln. May be he could unload into easier, nastier targets. Maybe that's what he should have done all along. "Do You think we should?"
"Uh- What, you wanna be a-?!"
"Yes!"
Allie snorted, but was quick to agree. "Ooooh, yes!" And here was her chance to pave the way to Scythe, and any such other who ended up in McMahon's sights. The perfect cover. "Yes, we can do this! And we will!"
AN: Man, have I gone way far from the roots? I'll always find it to be funny at just weird for myself at times, and it certainly did after finishing here. This was a chapter intended to be for Lemy, and somehow... I'm fine with making It the way I did, Allie-centric and in a different light and setting far from her regular depiction. She has just as much as a journey like the rest of them, now having a new main mission with her own pet Lemy, who does not know that he is merely being used by the bad guys. There isn't much to tell for them that isn't spoilers, but things happen, shit goes down. All in all, I just hope I did a right characterization for the poor girl, that's more of what I would care for over the silly stuff.
This was chapter six of this act so far, only a few more until hands get dirtier. Next up, Lucy.