The Blog for What to Play Next

Monday, January 23, 2017

Chapter 16: Wear your Shame

The boys alternated between staring at Timmy and watching the tv. He wasn't limping but it was pretty obvious that she'd gotten the drop on him. Marky and Danny exchanged glances, he'd won the bet, that was pretty obvious. They were out a good amount of combat pay, but it was worth it to them for whatever the shit he'd gotten. I stared out the window. It was creeping up on sunset.

"So we have a location." I finally said after one too many minutes of the boys being twitchy and Timmy leaning back on the couch. Timmy nodded.

"Gear up then," I didn't think that anybody felt comfortable with the bird in the bedroom anymore, but I couldn't quite say why. The boys looked at Timmy oddly, and he paused on the way to his rucksack. Danny cleared his throat.

"We're heading out now, Sarge?" He asked, nodding at the window. It was a little past four and their marks probably wouldn't show up until dark.

"Look smart," I replied sharply, "we're going to take up positions around it. It'll take us a good long time to find ones where we won't be seen. We've been made and that means, pale, good looking guys like us will be noticed if we're sitting out at cafes keeping watch. So grab your bags and spread out. It'll take us a full hour to circle, another to find a place to park it and the rest of the third for Timmy, Marky and me to take up positions up close against the warehouse." Timmy's face blanked out, but he didn't say a thing. If I caught him playing with his breaching shotgun, instead of his H7 I'd saw his damn hands off. I was starting to think the two of them had a fucking history.

There wasn't a whole lot of talk, but the assassin in the next room would hear us moving out unless she was knocked out cold. I shot a glance at Timmy and his mouth flattened into a rude slash of a smile. If she didn't notice it was her problem. I let my mind wander to wondering what in the lowest level of hell she must have done to put him into that kind of mood. Timmy wasn't a soft bloke by any means, but he rarely pulled out a stock of nasty.

Inside of ten minutes we were on the streets and moving. No one would be able to tell we'd been at the bunker at all, unless they'd been there prior and noticed that there was less dust.





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