Moderators! Please delete the following message. Thank you.
Weapons of Choice
Stranger walked towards the gate at the far end of town. Almost each town that Stranger had been to had a gate of some kind. The reason behind this was simple: the Clakkerz that resided in the town were all cowards.
The gatekeeper was up in a security tower, watching closed-circuit television. Stranger could hear the laugh track on the show as he climbed up the ladder to the top of the security tower.
The Clakker, absorbed in the show he was watching, didn’t hear Stranger coming up behind him.
“Howdy,” Stranger said. The Clakker literally fell to the floor, screaming in terror.
“Bukaw! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll get back to work! Whoa, wait a gol-danged minute, you ain’t my boss!” the Clakker thrust his wing to the door. “Get outta here, ya mangey, flea-bitten—HOIK!”
Stranger grabbed the Clakker by the neck. “Open the gate so’s I can capture that Outlaw,” he growled. “You got’s three seconds.”
Stranger dropped the bird. The Clakker whimpered and scrambled to the control panel, pushing a few buttons and pulling a lever.
The huge gate slowly slid open down below the tower. “Good choice, feather-head.” Stranger climbed back down the tower.
A Clakker with a nametag called to the one in the tower. “Hey, Willy! Did ya find that Bounty Hunter yet? He needed that gate open.”
“Well, um… he found me.” The Clakker in the security tower said.
Stranger walked out of town, into the hot plains of the savanna. He picked up a rock. It was time to hunt.
This hunt, however, was the hunt for Stranger’s ammunition. His weapon of choice was a wrist-mounted, double-barreled, semi-automatic, retractable crossbow. He hated guns, the smell of gunpowder made his stomach turn.
But Stranger didn’t use arrows or bullets (thought the thought that those might be more useful choices had crossed his mind). In place of them, he used (of all things) small animals with different volatile abilities. He humorously referred to these as “Live Ammo.”
Stranger had a mental checklist of each animal. Chippunks, Bolamites, and Fuzzles in case the bounty got out of hand. That was all he needed for now.
Stranger found a nest of Chippunks, each of the rodents chattering away at each other. Chippunks were one of the few animals that were blessed with the gift of gab. Unfortunately, they used this gift to yell profanities and insults at passer-bys.
“Hey, I’d watch out if I were you,” a Chippunk said to another. “There’s some douche with a rock and it looks like he’s going to—YOW!”
Stranger hated people who spoiled the stealth approach. He knocked out the one who was warning the other.
The Chippunk was stunned, but unharmed. Stranger scooped up the fat, legless rodent into his hand and dropped it into his ammo bag.
Note: I’ll add more soon.
__________________
Last edited by Dipstikk; 04-18-2005 at 04:26 PM..
|
