Thursday, October 15

Not-So Comic Disaster

Posted by Shelly Holder

I've been trying to be really good this week about writing, but it just ain't happening. I missed the ROD deadline last night because I was catching up on the blog and because I've got four deadlines on Saturday.

That's right. Four deadlines.

Even being decently prepared in advance doesn't stop me from wanting to break something (preferably not my computor, but sometimes it comes close.)

I had the ROD entry written. It was all done at least two days in advance. But when the midnight deadline rolled around, I was off doing homework.

It irritates all rationalization right out of me. I've been ranting about it all day to my roomie the Long Suffering One.

Anyways, enjoy my poor neglected entry. Apparently I like giving away free snippets of work.

Right Now:
What I'm listening to: n/a
What I want most: ugh...


When I regained consciousness, my first thought was Oh shit, I hope I got permission this time.

Rever would NOT be happy with me when I got back to headquarters. This was my third messy kill of the month, and the clean-up crews were starting to raise their fees. Again. Add on top of that the whole possibly unauthorized thing...

He's gonna kill me.

I surveyed the damaged room, and winced at the bullet-ridden door. I changed my mind. Rever might yell about replacement costs, but Krachen would kill me for ineptitude. The holes were nowhere near any sort of pattern.

And the green sludge. Oh, dear Lady, the green sludge. It was everywhere- which meant that I went for the head last night, instead of the heart like I should have done. Grippers exploded with a head shot into sticky green Gripper goo; a heart shot made them simply vaporize. Unfortunately, a heart shot also meant finding a 5 inch target somewhere within massive Gripper rolls, and all while avoiding the toxic, tar-like secretions...

Not that many people actually cared about abandoned coat factories, or what might happen within, but even they would report 35+ bullet holes and green slime to the police. Or other... protective agencies.

Yeah, Krachen was gonna kill me. He's kinda paranoid about being noticed by civilians, but he's nuclear about getting noticed by the rival schoolyard bully. I guess he was right about me not being suited for field agent. Shit, I hope he doesn't demote me. I hate paperwork.