| (Possible) Last Will and Testament |
[27 Nov 2005|12:06pm] |
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mood |
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 pensive |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Fields of Athenry - Dropkick Murphys |
] |
I don't know why I'm writing this down, because if I don't make it back no one's ever going to read it. I thought about leaving it with Kael, but it would upset him and he needs to rest. He's earned it. So...
( To Whom It May Concern )
Ugh, I think I'm gonna burn this instead of letting anyone see it. Or at least keep it where no one will be able to see it. I've got a reputation to protect.
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| Showdown at Beowawe (Chapter 1) -- Battle Mountain Rodeo Park |
[27 Nov 2005|01:19pm] |
Four hundred and eighty-odd fuckin' miles.
US ninety-five to the the Interstate, and five-fifteen north until it became US ninety-five again. Then US-6 to NV-three seventy-six, off on US-fifth only to turn off again to NV three-oh-five. A quick run to Front Street, then Reese Street, and Whistler found himself in the center of Battle Mountain, Nevada.
If he hadn't broken just about every speed limit (and they kept fuckin' changing on him), he would've been late for the meet-up. Thankfully he had the presence to top up the gas tank before heading out of Searchlight.
He consulted his google map again, made a few quick course corrections and found the Rodeo colluseum.
Others were already there, waiting. The only face he recognized was Matthew's. But he'd been good to his word.
He got the message out.
Whistler switched off the engine and killed the lights. The moon and stars offered plenty of ambient light and, he'd suspected, a few members of the gathering weren't exactly friends with the daytime. Which was fine by him. They were going to need every hand they could get.
He cracked open the door, stretched his legs out and stood. The bulk of the gun Rhiannon had given him for protection felt cold and heavy in his jacket pocket. He opted that moment to light a cigarette. He suspected it could be his last until this was over... one way or another.
Time to plan. Time to take the bastards down.
Time to save the world.
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| Showdown at Beowawe (Chapter 2) -- You Say You Want a Revolution? |
[27 Nov 2005|04:15pm] |
Hannibal paced in front of his brethren, hands clasped behind his back. He would occasionally stop, adjusting a piece of uniform, dust off a bit of dirt, slap a shoulder. Everyone had assembled for this, their moment of victory.
"Friends, Romans..." he began. One thing humanity offered that they could appreciate, was Shakespeare. Especially the tragedies. While this moment would be written into the new history of the world, he doubted anyone could truly capture the moment properly.
"We stand on the precipe of a New Age. Our machine is complete; we possess enough silver to power it to wipe out the entire state. And the Eye of Brahma is in our possession."
A loud 'hurrah' of cacophonous cheers layered the immediate landscape. The stars shuddered.
"We leave at dawn," Hannibal continued. "First laying waste to the pitiful filth who've proven so... useful. And then we begin our reclaimation. I say unto all of you. This," he grinned (as much as one with barely a mouth could), "will be our finest hour. To the Cause!"
Fists raised in the air. "The Cause! The Cause! The Cause!"
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determined