"Vacuum, What's new, People suck"
People, Alec had decided long ago, sucked. They sucked hard, and long and not really in that fun way.
And where did this leave him? Standing in the bedroom of one of the posh-est hotel suites he'd ever been in armed with a gun that he planned to dump, two spar clips, a micro drive and a crick in his neck from bending over all this paper crap while the bad guy's laptop turned itself inside out and puked up its contents onto the micro drive.
He stole a can of soda from the mini-fridge. Bio-weapons. Big, clunky, mass murdering bio-weapons. So, okay he was feeling a bit egotistical, because to date he didn't think anything beat his own kind for slickness of design when it came to a bio-weapon. Certainly his kind was a hell of a lot easier on the eyes. Though not the wallet if he was reading the bank account info correctly.
This part of the mission he didn't mind so much about. It was the second part that irked him. The part where he was nothing but a trigger man for his handlers? That bothered him. It was, he had been informed, basically a life for a life. He killed on command and the government that had build him, at a higher price tag than these jokers were asking for, didn't start killing off the other transgenics. He got his hands bloody and dirty and no one dissected a bunch of kids running around playing school yard games in a biohazard site they called home.
Until the next person needed to quietly die. Then all bets were off and he had to renegotiate.
So, yeah, people sucked, and if the sound of bullets through a suppressor was any indication? This vacuum had switched from suck to blow. Because he wasn't the one shooting.
Yet.
And where did this leave him? Standing in the bedroom of one of the posh-est hotel suites he'd ever been in armed with a gun that he planned to dump, two spar clips, a micro drive and a crick in his neck from bending over all this paper crap while the bad guy's laptop turned itself inside out and puked up its contents onto the micro drive.
He stole a can of soda from the mini-fridge. Bio-weapons. Big, clunky, mass murdering bio-weapons. So, okay he was feeling a bit egotistical, because to date he didn't think anything beat his own kind for slickness of design when it came to a bio-weapon. Certainly his kind was a hell of a lot easier on the eyes. Though not the wallet if he was reading the bank account info correctly.
This part of the mission he didn't mind so much about. It was the second part that irked him. The part where he was nothing but a trigger man for his handlers? That bothered him. It was, he had been informed, basically a life for a life. He killed on command and the government that had build him, at a higher price tag than these jokers were asking for, didn't start killing off the other transgenics. He got his hands bloody and dirty and no one dissected a bunch of kids running around playing school yard games in a biohazard site they called home.
Until the next person needed to quietly die. Then all bets were off and he had to renegotiate.
So, yeah, people sucked, and if the sound of bullets through a suppressor was any indication? This vacuum had switched from suck to blow. Because he wasn't the one shooting.
Yet.