the gig is up |
| Being carted away after the electrodes of a wand disabled his muscles long enough not to work properly, was not ideal of a beginning to Sunday morning. Agitated in nature, body seized from high voltages poured into a strong desire to shoot and ask questions later. A taken ordered made him ravenous. Rage inducing. So out of his wit that the snarls of being subtracted to his thinnest thread of rationality produced visuals of carnage. Involuntarily separating from the portion of logic that was supposed to rule everything including impulse, turned on his best defense. Nate feeling like himself was going to be the constant instead of prone to being jostled by the powers that be. It had to take a bevy of men clothed like over ripened blueberries to take him out but he had been ready. Remarkably so, until the casting of shadows that lack of full sight provided, failed him. Clear as day was how he recalled, reckoning the arrival of Sunday morning when food of his choice wasn't stocked in his girlfriend's refrigerator. A fast stream of thoughts was supposed to perpetuate the oncoming dangers that carried out its plans in the neighborhood he wasn't a foe to. Tires, Goodyear make, some with worn treads, left marks in the street prior to the moment he was unable to open the door to his own truck. Quick on the draw was hand to pistol, the .9 liberating each bullet from its sleeping quarters. The beauty came alive, one by one, leaving three soon to merge with the ground. Like a clown car, with many occupants stuffed to explode from the sliding doors, surfaced to secure an asset. For whom wasn't his concern as fortune of anonymity and doing dirt under the cover of quiet and darkness was an preferable choice. His options gone, sight fully granted to him but it did not help his case when the last lead projectile fled the chamber to aim off a hair. It missed the oncoming hailstorm of coordinating buffoons, sinking into the side of the door. Indentations of two marked the vehicle before his gun was dislodged to prepare for combat. He could take as many as he had the strength to do. As many he had the foresight to see the oncoming strikes, but little preparation to work with fully working senses, overwhelmed his output. The computerized way of behaving and handling himself was delayed one connecting punch, grapple and throw, which he fell behind in protecting his rear from the surrounding clowns. Remembering the clear path had been exposed. The excess of noise that rung out after he made the first round of pops to exhaust first line of defense, would've made off better without bringing much noise to a rather quiet section. Observations were studied at times of visitation, including property had been interested in purchasing. Young families, the professionals looking to start their own, and the elderly who were retired trying to rev up the value in their alcove of stability. The market price could dwindle at the sparing that took place if habit would see more of an occurrence that plucked normal citizens from off the street. When it transpired fast, the handful of thoughts that lit him into full metal gear solid, we're the faces of those he couldn't allow to fail. Yet he had as it were the battle of transporting in a hollowed out vehicle with fumbling blue babysitters attempting all they could to subdue his unwillingness to stand down. Continued fighting as threats of electro transmission present wasn't enough. Being ruptured by punches to the face or threatened in the most simple primarily cliche way did not quell his need to comply. They warned him after the black bag cloaked his face. He warned them that he would disembowel all of them once it was over. A promise not to be broken was a promise they all wished they hadn't pushed his hand to inaugurate. Bound by wristlets that weren't normal alloy, kept him from hand latching on to a neck. He felt the weight of himself turned on his side, still struggling to challenge the captures of their orders. To make a deal with the devil if it had to happen when options were slim more and more. The most he gathered at the beat of energy drainage from the wand that sent the amount of voltage to fry a brain, disorientation hinted at the claws of karma ready to sink it's teeth into him. The sacrifices of omissions of truth, and finally revealing them set in motion to his downfall. Opening his trap to secure the conscience of the other part he worked with, was a line to cross. The undoing of what worked most of these years, only the side where Slade heavily reigned thought it was time. Missing in action for years but present in the mask of brother, was told on top of the recollection to be the one to always save. To stick away to be unseen and it was costly of a price. So much that a direct link to salvage any chaos created by him and for the two younger people that derived from him, was bleak. The existence of living was bleak, and he thought of it while body wouldn't relax under the restraints, or the subsequent torture of shock to keep him in line. He boiled, tussled, and frantically thought of ways for escape while those same tires were long gone from the foreground of an incident he knew the law would swarm in. He couldn't rest thinking while he thought of Isla and if she noticed the ruckus that brought the wrong attention he worked on a daily to keep at bay. Followed where he roamed to, including the safe spaces of his life, the encroached upon peace and what happiness that lasted more than it normally had, was what he looked forward to day in and day out. What mundane things normal people took for granted, was stripped away and the ultimate payment for sins accumulated through this life now shared and the one where he was at his other part most lethal, advanced the presence bringing him down. Not knowing the intent was out of his realm of knowledge he forged the steady arch of better thoughts than the treacherous ones to commit once he figured the out needed. |