Balls to the wall
Fifteen - no, wait, make that sixteen - of those assclowns on my tail.
Anyone else right about now would be askin' themselves what the hell they'd just gotten themselves into. Not me. This is what I live for.
I loosed three shafts before I even thought about it. I don't need to look to know if the taser tips hit their marks. Me, miss? Don't make me laugh.
Three down, thirteen to go, and I'm sleddin' down Mt. St. Helens in the asscrack of night on a piece of armor-plated steel from what's left of one of the Empire's precious choppers. Cold wind feels good on my face. Makes me feel alive - really alive. This is it, the thrill of the chase. An' all I can think about while these bozos shoot for my skull is Bobbi.
God, Bobbi. How can one person mean so freakin' much? She does. She went to hell and back for me, for the others - literally. I owe her. Bigtime. Don't know if I can ever repay a debt that big. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna try. I'd like to start by ramming that jackass Mephisto's head into a wall. Right now, I'll just be glad to go home and sleep in the same bed with her again.
I'm sure glad I took those skiing lessons from Wanda. Don't think the two right behind me were that lucky, judging by the crack I just heard.
Time for the fun stuff - assuming I don't get my damn head lopped off by a pine in the process. Two stun arrows to the left flank - I can see those bastards trying to get me in a pincer movement, and a flash tip to a tree trunk to cover me as I change course, zigging one way to send another three taser tips to the right. Zagging back across the mountain to let fly with a couple net arrows. Slicing across virgin snow. Screw the Olympics. This is where it's at.
Fingers are almost frozen to the bone. These temps are no good for my string or my pull. I have to compensate for the cold every time I draw. Two of 'em left. These are odds I can really dig. And just for them, I saved the best for last.
Vomit gas tips. The kids love 'em.
It's right around then that their base goes "boom". Music to my ears, man. It's the sound of a job well done.
Headsup, Bobbi. I'm comin' home.
Anyone else right about now would be askin' themselves what the hell they'd just gotten themselves into. Not me. This is what I live for.
I loosed three shafts before I even thought about it. I don't need to look to know if the taser tips hit their marks. Me, miss? Don't make me laugh.
Three down, thirteen to go, and I'm sleddin' down Mt. St. Helens in the asscrack of night on a piece of armor-plated steel from what's left of one of the Empire's precious choppers. Cold wind feels good on my face. Makes me feel alive - really alive. This is it, the thrill of the chase. An' all I can think about while these bozos shoot for my skull is Bobbi.
God, Bobbi. How can one person mean so freakin' much? She does. She went to hell and back for me, for the others - literally. I owe her. Bigtime. Don't know if I can ever repay a debt that big. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna try. I'd like to start by ramming that jackass Mephisto's head into a wall. Right now, I'll just be glad to go home and sleep in the same bed with her again.
I'm sure glad I took those skiing lessons from Wanda. Don't think the two right behind me were that lucky, judging by the crack I just heard.
Time for the fun stuff - assuming I don't get my damn head lopped off by a pine in the process. Two stun arrows to the left flank - I can see those bastards trying to get me in a pincer movement, and a flash tip to a tree trunk to cover me as I change course, zigging one way to send another three taser tips to the right. Zagging back across the mountain to let fly with a couple net arrows. Slicing across virgin snow. Screw the Olympics. This is where it's at.
Fingers are almost frozen to the bone. These temps are no good for my string or my pull. I have to compensate for the cold every time I draw. Two of 'em left. These are odds I can really dig. And just for them, I saved the best for last.
Vomit gas tips. The kids love 'em.
It's right around then that their base goes "boom". Music to my ears, man. It's the sound of a job well done.
Headsup, Bobbi. I'm comin' home.