Sunday, November 02, 2008

"Never Special," Confrontation, pt. 2, 406 words

The image is bent and distorted, broken up by the writhings of the fog, but I can tell that Lucila is a little scared... and extremely pissed off. I can't help but think that Nefarious is very lucky he has her restrained, or else she'd probably have killed him by now.

The police have created a perimeter around the immediate area, blocking off the streets and alleys and keeping a healthy distance from the fog. After all, with mad geniuses like Nefarious, you never know if the fog is really a sort of fast-acting, airborne necrotizing fasciitis, or just good old fashioned poison. Well, I know that Nefarious wouldn't actually do that, mainly because I'm pretty sure he's not a superhuman genius, with the insane leaps of logic that make something like that seem worthwhile. No, he's just a normal man who would realize the impracticality of such a system. Which probably makes him even more dangerous, now that I think about it.

I touch down inside the police cordon, stumbling a little but still landing with far more grace than I'd once been able to manage. I look back at the police, searching for someone who seems to be in charge. A confident-looking older man meets my gaze and waves me over. His name tag, I can see as I get close, gives the name "Donner." He's a lieutenant. I wonder where his captain is, if this kind of thing is so routine they don't even send the captains out anymore.

"Good to see one of you finally decided to show up," he says, voice dripping with thinly-veiled sarcasm. "And which one are you, anyway?"

"Amanda Park, sir," I say, pulling a few loose hairs back out of my face.

Lieutenant Donner nods a little, a hint of grudging respect on his face for my use of a real name, but it doesn't do anything to banish the dismissal in his tone as he says, "The one who dropped the ball the last time he showed up? Great."

Bite me, I think, but say, "I'm ready for him this time." Not that I really am... I still need to get a gas mask, if I hope to fight him properly without risking his knock-out gas someday, but I can't afford it just yet. It's been three weeks, but I still haven't found a job. Not that I've been looking all that hard, to be honest.

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