Dash?/Just Another Job

From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

Jump to: navigation, search

Just Another Job

He drops through the ventilation shaft, and quietly hit the hallway right outside the manager's office. The heads up display informing him that he is seconds ahead of schedule, which was good since yesterday he was a two seconds behind. He must have made up time, working, instead of sleeping. One day he will have all the time in the world to spend, not working. He quickly views his next contract, the next one involving the elimination of a reporter, child's play. Guards walk by his position, unfortunately for them that light bends off his position making him a deadly foe. Though those guards are lucky, for they aren't his target. Once they leave the area he moves quietly and quickly towards the doorway to the office, and waits. According to the contract, the manager will be getting done with business and his business partner will be leaving the office, a few seconds past, and as the door opens he slips inside while the partner walks out. His only thoughts are how he can make up lost time for the partner decided to chat up the manager and now he is delayed. He slips a hand down into his trench coat and pulls a photograph out of some child. As the door shuts, he flings it onto the desk, and then leaps over the manager, and spinning around sharp blades sliding out of the top of his wrist. He plunges his right blade into his back, and grabs his mouth with his left and puts him forward so he sees the picture. The manager eyes go wide as he understands why this is happening. The bladed individual releases the mouth of the manager and with lighting speed slits his throat. He lets the body fall on to the desk, so the blood pours out of his neck and down the desk. The picture of the child lies above the catastrophe and is safe. Completely visible for a few seconds the man, with striking white hair and with dark red goggles with yellow casing, wearing a trench coat and a dress shirt, with tall boots with radioactive symbols on it, he is dressed impeccable. He adjusts his long gloves and the blades retract silently. His goggles turn a bright red, and the man makes motions that he is talking though a cloth mask covers his mouth and nose. A man that is bald, with monocle, and beard appears in his goggles his voice only heard by the man with the mask and speaks with a slight Russian accent

“Operative Dash, mission status.” Dash looks quickly around the room, and down at his work, and responds in a flat monotone voice.

“Contract fulfilled…” There is a pause, and he completes his sentence.

“Sir.”

“Acceptable after completion of next mission report to base for debriefing and negotiations General Degalle signing off.”

Dash’s goggles go back to a dark red state, and to the outside world he vanishes. Right as some poor sod enters the office to speak to the manager. The employee drops their cup of coffee, and immediately runs out. Obviously the manager can’t be saved. Though quite invisible Dash watches this happen, he tilts his head slightly as he watches the employee’s reaction, before turning to a window and opening it up. Looking down the from the ten story window that he is in, he shrugs slightly reaches down to his belt and opens a compartment on it, and pulls out a container. Shaking out a couple of pills, he stands there and takes them. Behind him people are flooding into the office, and there is a commotion where the partner picks up the picture and another person yells, and says something about the cops. Dash gives a slight grin, and leaps.

Free falling always gave him a high; almost comparable as the one that he is usually riding with the stimulants that he constantly takes to maintain his efficiency on the job. Together the sensation is ecstasy. As he falls, he calmly moves his hand down to his belt, and pulls on a compartment. A small machine forms on his back, and at the last few seconds shoots fire and energy out of it, as a small jet pack and propels him in the air again. He lands safely on his feet a couple hundred feet away from the complex he just leaped out. The small device forms back into the compartment, clicking back into place.

“Now to stop the presses”

He mutters to himself, and proceeds to start running. He first starts off going at a sprint, avoiding people with a grace of a nimble cat, and then proceeds to go faster. His feet start moving at speeds that a professional runner would only dream of accomplishing, and then some. People eventually become cars, as he moves through traffic, moving faster than the cars on the road. Outpacing cars easily, he gets off the road and slows down at a court house where there are people exiting. A mass of reporters approach the individuals leaving flogging them down with questions. Dash watches the scene and watches the people being questioned leave, eventually the reporters get into their transportations and drive off in different directions. Dash quickly follows one of the cars, easily keeping pace behind it. It pulls into one of the television stations headquarters. People get out; Dash shadows one man in particular. The average height, thin man walks into the building unaware of what is following him. He reaches an office and walks in, and sits down and plays a recording of one of the people he just finished interviewing. Listening intently and taking notes, he doesn’t notice the door being closed.

“I apologize for interrupting, but my client would like to inform you that your attitude is no longer being tolerated.”

Dash speaks in his monotone voice. He appears in front of the desk of the reporter. The man looks up, at the short man with white hair, and examines him for any weapon.

“I thought this day was going to come, and I thought I would be prepared.”

With that the man reaches under his desk quickly, and snaps a gun up and unloads. To Dash the world slows down, a slight glow wraps around him, this one projecting a kinetic field that as the first few bullets come into contact with are bounced with the same force into other parts in the room. The remaining bullets don’t even get near the field, for Dash moves with remarkable speed to the side of the reporter. Then with the same level of speed the blades are out and in before the last bullet hits the door. The former reporter slumps over his neck bleeding out.

“Unexpected.”

Dash says out loud, as the light bends and he vanishes. Once again people come into the room to investigate, though the true reason behind the crime slips out right under their noses.


((If People like this I will continue it, if not I will just leave it until I feel the energy to continue.))

Personal tools
Namespaces
Variants
Actions
Navigation
Features
Toolbox
Advertising

Interested in advertising?