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Poll

Current total accounted votes: 23

<0> (salien) Kill Travis.
- 0 (0%)
<3> (salien) Unlock Travis' telepathy.
- 2 (50%)
<4> (TSM) Harvest Travis Kite.
- 0 (0%)
<2> (TSM) Recruit Travis Kite.
- 0 (0%)
<3> (Mr. Wiggly-worm) Take over Travis' body.
- 0 (0%)
<3> (Mr. Wiggly-worm) Inact Plan Alpha.
- 2 (50%)

Total Members Voted: 2


Author Topic: The Many-word  (Read 1421 times)

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The Many-word
« on: April 30, 2009, 04:32:25 PM »

Travis Kite wakes up violently, his hands grasping at the air, sweat soaking the sheets. His hair is spiked and damp, his eyes wide with terror.

He takes several deep breaths and lays back down slowly. Abruptly he begins to talk, seemingly to no-one.

"Right before he died, my father talked to me. He said, 'Don't get caught, and I love you. There's a place you should visit. It used to be my home.' Then he showed two mountains. It was the same in my dream just now: Two mountains with a stream running between them."

He's quiet for a moment, then: "I think it's time to go find that mountain. What do you think?"
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #1 on: April 30, 2009, 05:11:29 PM »

It's morning outside. Travis gets up and looks out the window. Across the street, Mr. Emmit is standing in his yard watering his lawn.

"That's Mr. Emitt. He turned dad in. I saw him talking to the police." Travis appears to be talking to a stuffed-animal on his bed. He stands up and paces around the room once. "We can't let him see me leave or he'll report me. I'll leave a note for mom."

He walks over to his dresser and pulls open his backpack. He pulls out a pencil and a piece of paper and scrawls a note:

Mom,
I'm looking for dad's mountain. I'll be back after.
I love you and try not to worry about me
Travis
p.s. please feed Mitsy

He pulls thirty-five pounds of textbooks out of the backpack and drops them on the bed causing the bedding to fold over them.

He opens his dresser drawer and pulls out a t-shirt, socks, jeans and a thick coat. After dressing and filling his backpack halfway with clothes he walks back to the bed and grabs a stuffed anaconda and shoves it into his coat. "You can ride in here, Mr. Wiggly-worm." He fishes a videogame system out from under his bed and pockets it. He also grabs his life savings; $421 dollars he earned mostly by mowing lawns. Mostly Mr. Emitt's lawn, actually.

Travis opens his bedroom door and creeps downstairs to the kitchen. Cans of soup and a banana, a loaf of bread, peanut-butter and jam are placed atop the clothes in the backpack as quickly as possible and Travis is standing at his back door, handle in hand. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #2 on: April 30, 2009, 05:36:34 PM »

Mike Bonamonte pulls up his binoculars. "It's Kite. He's just opened his back door. Start the car."

The car starts. Mike's silent partner rubs his eyes to clear away grit and sniffs at his cold coffee, one hand on the shifter.

"Yeah. I'll make the call so we can get some more." Mike opens his phone. "Kite is on the move. What? Yes, Kite is flying. That's really stupid, for the record."

His partner smiles as Mike hangs up.

"Hah." Mike says, nodding. He watches Travis walk quickly across the back lawn, his sneakers leaving wide, dark swaths of green in the dew-covered grass. The car quietly idles as the boy dodges behind a shrub and past some garbage-cans, apparently attempting to avoid being spotted by the neighbor. "That's the guy we set up as the informant. The kid's smart."

Mike's silent partner doesn't move a muscle. He appears to be concentrating.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #3 on: April 30, 2009, 06:07:07 PM »

Mr. Emitt stops watering long enough to stoop over and pull a weed from his yard. Travis bolts for the far side of the road and jams around the corner of the lane. Panting, he pulls Mr. Wiggles out of his coat and wraps him around his neck. "That was close."

He keeps jogging, soon working up enough of a sweat to pull off the coat as a gentle morning spring warmth begins to burn away the dew. Stopping only long enough to shove the snake and the coat into his bag, he continues, eventually reaching the more commercial areas of Grand Flats. He turns down a corner and nearly trips over a homeless man sitting beside the road.

"You, boy. Are you running?" His eyes are twinkling in an insane way.

"O-of course not!" Travis tries and fails to hide his fear.

"Ahahahahahaha!" The hobo giggles maniacally, then talks to Travis, the way his father used to. But your father was, wasn't he? Do you ever wonder if you are a Scrub as well? Images follow the thought, memories of a boy playing outside a house. A squad-car pulls up and two policemen get out. Neither of them have faces. They go inside the boy's house and return hauling the boy's mother, screaming, her dish-gloves still dripping with suds. This was me. It was you. Someday we'll both get our revenge.

Travis pretends he can't hear. He thinks as loudly as he can, Stop it, you're going to get us both caught! then starts to run again. As he's leaving he hears the hobo's mirth: Remember something: You can't make thoughts louder or quieter! I'll see you at the mountain!
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #4 on: May 01, 2009, 07:55:54 AM »

Travis drops his backpack onto the sidewalk and pulls Mr. Wiggly-worm out of it, wrapping him around his neck once more. The bus station is nearly empty as he walks up to the counter and places his can of money on the edge. "I'd like a ticket to Emerald Falls, please."

"Are your parents here?" The woman in her mid-forties behind the counter peers down at Travis over her brown horn-rimmed glasses.

"Yeah, but they're taking a later bus."

She peers down at him with a frown and types on her keypad.

Behind Travis a black Mercedes pulls up to the station. Mike closes his phone and gets out of the car. He walks across the street to a coffee shop, leaving his mute partner to watch Kite.

The man at the counter has long dreadlocks, a goatee and dozens of piercings. "What can I get you?" His eyes look slightly... crazy.

"Two tall regular coffees and two of those." Mike says, pointing at a stack of plain glazed donuts inside the glass case.

"Sure thing, chief. Hey, what's TSM?"

"I'm a safety inspector. I work for the federal government." Mike says, a slightly bored tone in his voice.

"Really? That's cool. What kind of things do you inspect?"

Mike frowns and looks the kid over once-more. "What's your name, son?"

"Uh, Ben." The kid is still staring at Mike's nametag.

"Well, Ben, I inspect old buildings for asbestos. It's a very toxic material that used to be used as insulation."

"You don't look like an inspector. You look like a cop."

Mike pulls his gun in a smooth motion. "Ok, who the fuck are you?"

'Ben' grins wide and opens his mouth showing multiple rows of even, white teeth, one behind another. Mike takes a shot and misses as Ben ducks behind the counter.

"Damn. I NEED BACKUP!"

In moments Mike's partner is at the door. Together they sweep the store, but there is no trace of Ben.

"What the hell?"

Mike's partner merely looks at him.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #5 on: May 01, 2009, 08:04:37 AM »

Travis peels forty-five dollars off the roll and drops it on the counter like a dying stack of leaves. The lady counts it quickly and pushes a button. A ticket prints out and she rips it free in a swift motion and drops it into the slot below the plexiglass. "Have a safe trip, dear, and don't talk to strangers."

Travis nods and snatches the ticket. Just then, across the street, a gunshot rings out. The lady screams and grabs her phone, yelling for Travis to run down the street and get away, but Travis has already run onto his bus.

The bus driver looks down at him. "What's going on over there?"

"Gunshots! Let's get out of here!"

"Alright, hold on!" The bus driver pushes a button and the door slides quietly home. By contrast, the entire vehicle shudders as the driver slaps it into gear and nearly peels-out leaving the station.

"Who was shooting?"

"I don't know. Somebody in a coffee shop."

"Strange." The bus driver pulls out his cellphone. "We weren't supposed to leave for ten minutes, but it was going to be a pretty dead day anyway. Wednesdays always are. I'm going to call Linda and make sure everyone's alright."

Travis settles into a seat near the back on the starboard side and pulls out his videogame system. "We're on our way to the nearest mountains. If dad's mountain isn't there, we'll keep going west until we get to the Rockies.

Mr. Wiggly-worm sits quietly about Travis' shoulders, his slight smile broken by a tiny felt tongue that occasionally tickles his ear, causing him to readjust in his seat.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #6 on: May 01, 2009, 08:55:16 AM »

"Let me get this straight." Mike placed his hand on the counter and leaned forward. "You sold a ticket to a kid, and you don't know who he was or where his parents are?"

"He seemed to know what he was doing. There's nothing illegal about a kid buying a bus ticket!"

"That's not the issue here, ma'am. That kid is a runaway, and he's getting away because of you." He turns to his partner who nods. "We're going to have to take you in for questioning."

"But I didn't do anything! What if I remember where he was going?"

"That might change things." Mike smiles inwardly. He didn't have the authority to arrest the woman, but he could kill her if he had to. Luckily she was buying everything he tossed her and that wouldn't be necessary. Too much paperwork anyhow.

"He's going to Emerald Falls."

"You probably just saved that kid some very cold nights on the street. Thanks, Linda."

Linda smiles and adjusts her glasses. "No problem. I'm so glad nobody was hurt by that burglar!"

A police siren fades into the noise of traffic. Mike nods and wheels around. "Have a nice day."

Back in the Mercedes, Mike watches through the passenger-side rear-view mirror as three squadcars pull up to the coffee shop just before the whole scene tilts away as the car turns down Booker headed east.

"The bus shouldn't be too far ahead."

Just then, Mike's phone beeps twice.

"It's the termination order. We're going to harvest Kite."

The mute nods and rubs his eye nonchalantly.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #7 on: May 01, 2009, 11:49:30 AM »

Mike pulls a bluelight dome from under his seat and sticks the magnetic base to the roof of the car. He flips a switch and it starts to blaze in flashes of cyan, pulling the bus over.

Travis looks out the window. "What's wrong?"

"Not sure." replies the bus driver. "Let's find out."

After the bus has rolled to a stop the driver stands and starts to sort through his paperwork, apparently looking for his license. Travis turns off his game and stands up, walking to the back to use the tiny bathroom there.

Inside, he looks into the mirror and checks his hair. It's pretty messy. He ruffles with it for a moment, then the door is suddenly kicked open.

"HEY!" Travis has time to yell before rough hands grab him and he's hauled bodily from the latrine. Mike nods to mute and the two TSM agents depart the bus.

The driver shrugs at Travis as he passes and starts the bus again. "Guess they found you, kid."

"WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHO ARE YOU GUYS?" Travis is fighting in vain against the mute's iron grip.

"Dose him in the car." Mike flips open his phone and presses a button. "It's Bonamonte. We have Kite. What? Yes. The string is cut. Jesus Christ."

Mute shoves Travis into the back of the car and leans over with a large hypodermic needle in-hand. This isn't going to hurt, kid. You won't even wake up. He jams the needle into Travis' tiny arm and pushes the plunger home.

Travis' vision fades and he knows nothing for a time.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #8 on: May 01, 2009, 12:34:22 PM »

Mr. Wiggly-worm wriggles free of the backpack's partially-zipped and crowded interior, his button-eyes shining in the dim light of the backseat of the Mercedes. Mike and the mute have been driving for some time and are both sitting quietly, Mike occasionally checking his phone for reception.

The green and yellow anaconda slithers along Travis' back and into the back of his shirt. It continues down until its body is laying along his spine.

From the stuffed animal's yellow belly extend thousands of tiny needles which penetrate Travis' spine in dozens of places, each probe attaching to a separate nerve-ending. By applying electric pulses to his limbs, Mr. Wiggly-worm moves Travis' right hand onto the handle. It's locked from the inside. With no hesitation, Mr. Wiggly-worm reaches for the other handle. Also locked. He detaches from the boy and slides down under the driver's seat.

The car begins to brake hard and the mute opens his mouth in surprise. Mike shouts, "What are you doing?" as the car begins to slide at a 45-degree angle into the gravel beside the freeway.

Mike checks on Travis. He feels for a pulse and then pulls up an eyelid to check for REM movement. Satisfied, he gets out of the car followed by the mute. Mr. Wiggly-worm cuts the brake cable and slinks back into the backpack unnoticed.

Travis stirs slightly in his sleep, his boyish hand curled into a fist under his chin.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #9 on: May 01, 2009, 07:30:50 PM »

"Crap." Mike closes his phone and the mute shakes his head. They'd found a hole in the floor of the car where something had melted through it and then cut the brake line, spilling fluid all over the gravel.

With ten minutes to kill while backup arrives, Mike takes to sorting through his text messages while the mute lights a cigarette. He glances askance at Mike quizzically. "She's late. Again. Christ help me if it's another false alarm." The mute laughs silently and shakes his head.

Mr. Wiggly-worm has been busily analyzing and detoxifying Travis' blood via his left femoral artery. When enough of the drug has been oxidized he retracts the intravenous tube and coils in Travis' lap.

As the drugs begin to wear off Travis coughs and sits up. Through the heavily tinted windows he sees the mute and Mike resting against the hood.

"Shhh. Be very quiet. They'll kill you and take your brain."

Travis is too drugged-up to jump, but he glances down at his lap where Mr. Wiggly-worm has coiled and is now looking out the window as well.

"Who... what?"

"I'm your guardian. Your father gave me to you to keep you safe from things like this. People who want to exploit you."

"Exploit... what's exploit mean?"

"They want to analyze your brain to mimic the effects of your genetic code. They're retrofitting people with your gifts."

"My gifts? I'm not a Scrub."

"You are. You just haven't developed quite yet." Mr. Wiggly-worm's unmoving face radiates the words from within as if through a tiny, high-resolution speaker.

Travis says nothing for a moment, then reaches for the driver's side door-handle. "No, don't! It's locked, and if they know you're awake they'll only drug you again."

He stops and looks back at Mr. Wiggly-worm. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I haven't kidnapped and drugged you."

"You could be my imagination." Travis seems to be grappling with some heavy concepts.

"You know you're awake." The anaconda slithers into the driver's seat and tunnels into the center-console, the plastic melting around his head as if it were super hot.

"I'll start the car, you just buckle-up." The sound is now coming softly through the car speakers. Travis grabs his seatbelt and jams it into the slot just in time to watch Mike and the mute fall onto their asses as the car peels back and starts driving backward in a wide u-turn, flinging gravel outward in a wide spray. Gunshots sprinkle the car as Mr. Wiggly-worm circles the TSM agents and starts heading east, still going backward, along Travis' original route.

"I'm sorry for waiting so long to do something. When you were on the bus I was asleep."

"Aren't you a machine?"

"Very perceptive, but no. I'm currently 34% biological, though I am an artificial intelligence, in the sense that I was created rather than born."

"Who made you?"

"Your father."

"Why?"

"To protect you from those who may try to exploit you." Mr. Wiggly-worm's voice betrays no sign of impatience, as if he would answer the question the same way no matter how many times it was asked.

"Where are we going?"

"Emerald Falls. We're going to meet your biological mother."

"What's biological mean?" Travis is looking more alert. He turns around to watch the empty freeway. "Cars go faster in forward, you know."

"Are you buckled up?"

"Yes."

The car makes a violent 180, perfectly spinning to face forward as if guided by a professional stunt driver. "Biological mother means she gave birth to you. Your body, at least."

"Who gave birth to ... not my body?"

"Your brain is structured similarly to your father's, and his brain was altered on a genetic level at a young age by saliens."

"What is a salien?"

"Saliens are extra-terrestrials."

"I told Jimmy Emitt that aliens were probably real. He said I was stupid like my dad. He said his father thinks my father was a nutjob."

"Your father was one of the most brilliant men who has ever lived, due partially to his salien alteration and partially to his base genetic code. He was chosen for his high intelligence."

Travis seems to have had enough of fairy-tales for the moment. "Where are you? In the car, I mean?"

"I have extended myself to several places inside the vehicle. Do you want to see my head?"

"Uh, do you need it to watch the road?"

"No."

"Then, yeah. It's kinda weird talking to a car."

Mr. Wiggly-worm's head melts out of the steering-column amidst a popping sound which finally causes Travis' recovering nervous system to jump. "I ruptured the airbag inflation cartridge. Don't be alarmed."

"How do you know how to drive?"

I'm very good with machines." Mr. Wiggly-worm's voice betrays a hint of calculated mirth.

"I'm going to make a snack. Do you eat?"

"Not bananas and peanut-butter. And keep your head down. There are policemen headed toward us."

A tense moment passes, then Travis peeks out the driver's side back-seat window. Just as his eyes crest the sill the nearest squad-car brakes violently and crosses the center divider to give chase.

"Hold on. This is going to be a bit intense. Put on as many of your shirts and pants as you can."

"Why?"

"We're going to jump out of the car."
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #10 on: May 01, 2009, 10:32:15 PM »

The car zooms along at 143 mph, Mr. Wiggly-worm calmly encouraging Travis to dress as quickly as he can. A tunnel roves into sight over a hill and the four squad-cars following begin to fire on the Mercedes.

"It's going to be tight, but I think we can get out of this. Be ready to jump out. I've unlocked the doors. We're going to jump out just as we enter the tunnel." A bullet zings through the back window and shatters it, leaving a hole in the roof above Travis' head. He ducks.

"I'm scared."

"It's going to be alright, son."

Mr. Wiggly-worm sound exactly like Travis' father sans the weight of his voice.

Travis gulps and scrambles in his backpack, scattering his food all over the back seat. "I only have three more pairs of pants, and I don't think they'll all fit."

"Do your best. We're getting close now."

The Mercedes is still a half-dozen yards from the nearest squad-car when it enters the tunnel. Mr. Wiggly-worm breaks harshly for a moment.

"NOW!" The speakers blare the word at full volume. Travis takes a breath and pushes the door open against the wind bearing down on the speeding vehicle. He hesitates for a second, then jumps into the darkness of the tunnel.

A split-second of air time later he hits the ground, flopping and rolling like a ragdoll. Mr. Wiggly-worm lands near his head, seemingly unhurt.

"Are you O.K., Travis?"

Travis isn't moving. His head is bleeding and his breathing is shallow. The Mercedes continues speeding off into the tunnel, all four squad-cars following close behind at breakneck speed.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #11 on: May 01, 2009, 11:00:23 PM »

A sudden gust of wind follows the passing squad-cars. The tunnel lights flicker off and back on again in sequence, then a tiny flying saucer appears in the entrance to the tunnel with a soft bang noise. Mr. Wiggly-worm automatically begins to transmit a canned message to the craft.

"This is Mark Kite. My son Travis will be of some interest to you. Please help him, as he is in danger from those who would exploit him."

The craft hovers over Travis' body for a moment, then a tiny sliver of light emits from the craft, hitting him squarely in the forehead. After a second, the craft turns and zooms away.

"Wait! You're supposed to help us!" Mr. Wiggly-worm sounds distraught. He snakes to-and-fro across the sidewalk near Travis' feet, consternation evident in his voice. "Bah, fucking saliens."

A few moments pass, then: "Wake up, Travis! We've got to go before they catch that car and realize nobody's inside!" The stuffed anaconda nudges Travis' nose with successively harder bumps.

Travis groans and rolls onto his back. He opens his eyes and sits up.

"How do you feel?"

"My arms hurt." He is holding his arms and grimacing.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so." He stands up and takes a careful step. He stops and looks at Mr. Wiggly-worm. "I'll be O.K."

"Alright, let's get moving. We have to get off the road."

They walk west out of the tunnel and Mr. Wiggly-worm begins to lead the way east over the hill, stickers and dirt catching in his green fur as he slithers along the ground. The fresh-smelling spring air seems to invigorate the boy as he hops over rocks and exposed roots along the path. "I like hiking."

Nothing is said for a while, boy and snake climbing the steep hill at an even clip. Mr. Wiggly-worm stops to give Travis a break. "The saliens came. They shined a light on you and left."

"What did they want?" Travis sounds accepting of the news despite the insanity of the words.

"I don't know. They didn't respond to the canned message your father left for them. I'm thinking they're watching at a safe distance."

Travis walks quietly for a moment, his arms still stinging from flopping along the ground at nearly 65 mph. "I'm going to punch Jimmy Emitt in the nose."

Mr. Wiggly-worm laughs in a way calculated to achieve camaraderie. "Punch him once for me."

Travis grins widely and trots along, his injuries momentarily forgotten.

Just then a man wearing a green shirt and black Dickies steps into the path ahead and up the climb.

"Well look what we have here." He's wearing a ranger's badge and carrying a small firearm which is holstered but unsnapped.
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #12 on: May 01, 2009, 11:56:16 PM »

The Forest Ranger has a wild-eyed look about him. Mr. Wiggly-worm ejects a dart aimed for the man's neck. It lands directly in his jugular vein. The poision paralyzes him instantly.

"What did you do?" Travis looks distraught.

"Only what I had to. Take his gun."

"I don't want to! I want to go home!"

Mr. Wiggly-worm turns about and rears up swiftly, his nose inches from Travis'. "You'll do as I say. This is important, son." The voice is a perfect replica of his father's. Travis' lower lip trembles for a second and he turns away, picking up a stick.

"Don't do that." He throws the stick as far as he can. It tumbles down the hill and lands on the gravel beside the highway. "Don't use Dad's voice."

"I'm sorry, Travis. I'm trying to keep you safe. Please take the gun." The snake is back to his usually neutral tone.

"No." The boy frowns and crosses his arms, his back stiff with resolution.

The snake allows a moment for human reflection, then breaks the silence, speaking once again in Mark Kite's voice.

"Travis."

"..."

"Travis. Look at me."

Travis turns slowly and looks at his childhood toy. "What."

"I'm dead. Nothing will bring me back. You are my son, and I love you. I want you to be safe, so please take the gun?"

The boy glances at the snake with hope in his eyes. "Daddy?"

"I'm here, son. In spirit, if not in body. Take the gun."

"Ok dad." He walks over to the sleeping man and pulls the gun from the holster. Its unfamiliar weight feels evil and scary in his hand. "Now what?"

"Turn the safety off. It's a small button near the trigger. Push it so that one side is red." The stuffed animal is not moving but the voice eminating from it is commanding and simultaneously pleading.

"Ok. I pushed it. It's red now."

"Good. Now, let's keep moving. This forest ranger won't wake up for several hours."

"Ok..." Travis starts to walk up the mountain, tears dripping from his eyes. "Where are you?"

Mr. Wiggly-worm replies in his usual tinny voice. "He died the night the cops came. That was merely a recording of his thoughts."

Travis drops to his knees and the gun falls from his grasp. "I miss you dad! Why did you have to leave?!"

Mr. Wiggly-worm begins to recalculate his strategy. "Listen, Travis. Your father wants you to meet him at the mountain. He'll talk to you again there. Why don't we continue so you can talk to him again?"
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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #13 on: May 02, 2009, 06:04:26 AM »

Mike yanks an elliptical box out from under the center console of the Mercedes. "Someone's altered the computer." The leads into the box have been fused together, seemingly at random.

The mute looks Mike a question. "No, it couldn't have been the kid. He was doped up. But someone is helping him."

The Mercedes is a wreck, totalled when it hit the first turn in the road after the tunnel and careened off the blacktop to tumble down a steep ravine on the other side of the hill. Emerald Falls looms in the distance: Two tall mountains with a stream running down the middle formed by a tall, greenish waterfall between the peaks.

"He's somewhere between here and the entrance to that tunnel." Mike scans the hill bifurcated by the freeway tunnel. The trees, rocks and tall grass betray no sign of Travis or his mystery helper. "I'd agree with you, but we're only two men. We need more help on this one. I'll make a call."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and flicks it open with his thumb. He presses a button and holds the phone to his ear. "This is Bonamonte. I need a chopper at my current location to help us find Kite. Yes. Yes. I think he's somwhere on foot between my current location and the entrance to the Minnesota Tunnel. The Kite is, uh, flying free. Yes I know that's not one of the codes... Kite is on the run. Uhuh. Alright, thanks."

The mute shrugs and pulls out his gun. He reloads it slowly as if each bullet were named and steps off the road and onto the gravel. The path leads to the nearly 45-degree slope the tunnel is carved into. Mike follows, gun still nearly full after taking only a single shot at the Mercedes and one at Ben.

The two TSM agents start climbing the hill just as Travis and Mr. Wiggly-worm crest the rise and spot them.

"Travis. Keep the gun pointed at the ground but be ready to raise it if they spot us. They value their own lives above their mission, so firing on them should make them take cover and let us run."

"What if they don't take cover?"

"Then you shoot them."

"I d-don't think I can do that."

"It's alright. Do your best and we'll get out of this just fine." The lie comes easily to the snake, with no betrayal in his voice of the low odds he's given their survival.

Mike looks up the hill and spots them. The moment he does, the mute is also looking in their direction.

Travis' head suddenly starts to hurt very badly. "OW! Ow ow ow ow! My brain! It feels like something's moving around in my head!"
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Guild

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Re: The Many-word
« Reply #14 on: May 03, 2009, 03:33:38 PM »

I can't update without votes. Er... I could, but I'm not going to because I'm following a 'secret' rule.

It's only a secret if you don't think about it too hard.
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