Mouser
03-01-2007, 02:44 PM
"Hey you! Muscles! I need to talk to you." The black haired girl with the strong New York accent whispered from behind the truck she was helping to unload.
Steve had been in deep thought about the revelations in the woods and her sibilant whisper started him from his reverie. A quick glance at the stranger showed a sweaty, dishevelled rebel girl in black. The tattoos along her arm instantly speaking to him of white trash. The expression on her face was concerned though, perhaps even a little afraid and that caught his attention.
Steve looked behind him to see who she was hissing at, then pointed a finger at his own face and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Uh... Me?"
"Yeah you. Gees, don't tell me all those muscles pushed out what was left of your brain. You're called Steve right? You speak Spanish?"
Her cocky attitude was belied a little by the nervous glance over her shoulder.
Steve smiled at the pretty dirty girl.
"Um... Si?"
He paused. "How exactly can I help you? Do you need me to talk to one of the workers? I've only got a short time to myself here, and I'm, uh, kinda busy."
"What does this mean?" She rattled off a phrase in Spanish to him.
"I know it means something like 'Mouth with legs' or somesuch but I need to know exactly what it means." She put an hand on his arm to keep him from walking away.
He looked down at her hand on his arm and paused, staring at it, stunned. He had never been this close to a girl before, even a grimy, sweaty girl, and he wasn't sure what the protocols were.
He decided to treat her like a slightly smaller man.
"Where did you hear that phrase? It's hard to translate it out of context."
"It's what the workers here say caused the dissappearances from this place. There was one last night too. Near where I was working. They've mostly been women here but also a few men."
She didn't seem to notice his momentary confusion, instead withdrawing her hand and seating herself on the ramp of the truck she'd been unloading. A small sigh as she rubbed her eyes. This was the night shift after all.
His eyes widened just a little, realizing that he had more context than she did regarding their discussion. He considered for a moment whether he should share his insights with her. She was, after all, a civilian. She had no need to know.
Or did she?
“What makes you think I would know?”
She fixed a measuring gaze on him. After a moment of silence she answered, "An envelope with pictures in it of the men who are my contacts here. Yours is one of the pictures. The last guy that I spoke to though, didn't seem to know anything about it so I'm not holding out hope that you do either. So, tell me what it means? We're working for the same team."
He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Finally. I was wondering when you'd show up. You need to get a message to our superiors. Begins: Steve Andrews reports We found a partially masticated deer while on patrol last night. We also surprised a shirtless Sergeant Furtado while he was burying something that he claimed was his own feces. After he left, I dug it up and and found it to be his torn and bloody shirt. Also the animal tracks we found near the deer lead directly to the place where we found Sergeant Furtado. All these facts lead me to the conclusion that Sergeant Furtado is a shapeshifter of some kind, and may be responsible for the deaths on base. I still have the shirt. If he finds out that we suspect him, we may be next on his list."
He finished the entire report with one breath and paused to suck in another. "Got that?"
The dark haired girl was quiet for a moment, as if trying to memorize what he'd said. Then she asked "And what does that phrase mean exactly?".
He cocked his head for a moment thoughtfully and considered. "Sounds Central Amerind."
His eyes brightened as he realized the implications of what he was saying, "Good work learning its name. Next step is to learn its weaknesses and kill it."
He stopped, realizing he had begun pacing again, and turned to face her. "I'll need to do some research. How do I get back to you?"
The girls blue eyes darkened in pique, the only warning he had before she grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. "And what does it MEAN you lump of muscle for brains? Can't answer a simple question you Toll-toine? Sput a-mach e!! What is the name exactly? If I know the name I can find the weakness."
Steve's eyebrows narrowed in amusement at the Irish temper on display before him. He smiled as he spoke in clear and strangely accented Irish Gaelic. "It's a 'mouth that moves around.' Idiomatically, I would say that this is speaking of its appetite. If you're done losing your temper, we could discuss how we're going to kill it without any weapons. Hmm?"
Taken aback for a moment by the Gaelic he'd spoken and the fact that he knew the foulness of the language she'd used the girl sputtered. "Why didn't you say you could speak Gaelic?"
She sighed and he could see the visible attempt to control her temper. "My names Aefe, thanks for asking. And how do you know they want it dead? Killing things certainly wasn't part of my orders."
He paused, amused at her obvious struggle with a strong Irish temper. He waited for her to finish counting to ten in Gaelic, or whatever, so that he could explain his plan to her.
"Aefe, 'Better him than me.' They want him? They can order me to capture him. In the meantime, I'm going to concentrate on keeping our team alive. Get me?"
Still surprised by the barrage of Gaelic, her face still reddened at being caught using crude language, she bit back her response, gritted her teeth and nodded.
"Since you're the only member of the team who can leave the base, I need you to... please go to the nearest guns and ammo shop and buy a box of ammo for an AR-15. Then, I need you to take the ammo out of the box and smuggle it to me in five round lots. I can conceal that many in my sock.”
"That I can do. But it's a risk. I think I'm going to hit the library too and do a little research. How do you want me to contact you again? It's going to look odd a soldier hanging around with a dock worker and there'll need to be some reason for the many contacts it will take to get that whole box of ammo to you."
She folded her arms and leaned up against the truck awaiting his response.
"I'll meet you here during the break time we get every evening. If anybody asks, we say nothing and everyone assumes what they usually assume when a young man uses his rest time to meet with an attractive young woman. You have your assignment. There are fifty rounds in a box. I'll see you here tomorrow night for the first five."
Aefe rolled her eyes but controlled her tongue. Her response was 'almost' civil. "Alright oh bossy little Gille-tòin. I will do this cause it makes sense. See you and your muscles tomorrow."
And with that quip, she went back to work.
Steve watched her go, regarding the play of her hips until she disappeared around the truck. A smirk played briefly across his lips. "Oh yeah. She wants me."
He took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, then walked back to barracks, whistling the first few bars of "Gypsy Rover," his hands in his pockets. His plan was progressing nicely.
Steve had been in deep thought about the revelations in the woods and her sibilant whisper started him from his reverie. A quick glance at the stranger showed a sweaty, dishevelled rebel girl in black. The tattoos along her arm instantly speaking to him of white trash. The expression on her face was concerned though, perhaps even a little afraid and that caught his attention.
Steve looked behind him to see who she was hissing at, then pointed a finger at his own face and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Uh... Me?"
"Yeah you. Gees, don't tell me all those muscles pushed out what was left of your brain. You're called Steve right? You speak Spanish?"
Her cocky attitude was belied a little by the nervous glance over her shoulder.
Steve smiled at the pretty dirty girl.
"Um... Si?"
He paused. "How exactly can I help you? Do you need me to talk to one of the workers? I've only got a short time to myself here, and I'm, uh, kinda busy."
"What does this mean?" She rattled off a phrase in Spanish to him.
"I know it means something like 'Mouth with legs' or somesuch but I need to know exactly what it means." She put an hand on his arm to keep him from walking away.
He looked down at her hand on his arm and paused, staring at it, stunned. He had never been this close to a girl before, even a grimy, sweaty girl, and he wasn't sure what the protocols were.
He decided to treat her like a slightly smaller man.
"Where did you hear that phrase? It's hard to translate it out of context."
"It's what the workers here say caused the dissappearances from this place. There was one last night too. Near where I was working. They've mostly been women here but also a few men."
She didn't seem to notice his momentary confusion, instead withdrawing her hand and seating herself on the ramp of the truck she'd been unloading. A small sigh as she rubbed her eyes. This was the night shift after all.
His eyes widened just a little, realizing that he had more context than she did regarding their discussion. He considered for a moment whether he should share his insights with her. She was, after all, a civilian. She had no need to know.
Or did she?
“What makes you think I would know?”
She fixed a measuring gaze on him. After a moment of silence she answered, "An envelope with pictures in it of the men who are my contacts here. Yours is one of the pictures. The last guy that I spoke to though, didn't seem to know anything about it so I'm not holding out hope that you do either. So, tell me what it means? We're working for the same team."
He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Finally. I was wondering when you'd show up. You need to get a message to our superiors. Begins: Steve Andrews reports We found a partially masticated deer while on patrol last night. We also surprised a shirtless Sergeant Furtado while he was burying something that he claimed was his own feces. After he left, I dug it up and and found it to be his torn and bloody shirt. Also the animal tracks we found near the deer lead directly to the place where we found Sergeant Furtado. All these facts lead me to the conclusion that Sergeant Furtado is a shapeshifter of some kind, and may be responsible for the deaths on base. I still have the shirt. If he finds out that we suspect him, we may be next on his list."
He finished the entire report with one breath and paused to suck in another. "Got that?"
The dark haired girl was quiet for a moment, as if trying to memorize what he'd said. Then she asked "And what does that phrase mean exactly?".
He cocked his head for a moment thoughtfully and considered. "Sounds Central Amerind."
His eyes brightened as he realized the implications of what he was saying, "Good work learning its name. Next step is to learn its weaknesses and kill it."
He stopped, realizing he had begun pacing again, and turned to face her. "I'll need to do some research. How do I get back to you?"
The girls blue eyes darkened in pique, the only warning he had before she grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. "And what does it MEAN you lump of muscle for brains? Can't answer a simple question you Toll-toine? Sput a-mach e!! What is the name exactly? If I know the name I can find the weakness."
Steve's eyebrows narrowed in amusement at the Irish temper on display before him. He smiled as he spoke in clear and strangely accented Irish Gaelic. "It's a 'mouth that moves around.' Idiomatically, I would say that this is speaking of its appetite. If you're done losing your temper, we could discuss how we're going to kill it without any weapons. Hmm?"
Taken aback for a moment by the Gaelic he'd spoken and the fact that he knew the foulness of the language she'd used the girl sputtered. "Why didn't you say you could speak Gaelic?"
She sighed and he could see the visible attempt to control her temper. "My names Aefe, thanks for asking. And how do you know they want it dead? Killing things certainly wasn't part of my orders."
He paused, amused at her obvious struggle with a strong Irish temper. He waited for her to finish counting to ten in Gaelic, or whatever, so that he could explain his plan to her.
"Aefe, 'Better him than me.' They want him? They can order me to capture him. In the meantime, I'm going to concentrate on keeping our team alive. Get me?"
Still surprised by the barrage of Gaelic, her face still reddened at being caught using crude language, she bit back her response, gritted her teeth and nodded.
"Since you're the only member of the team who can leave the base, I need you to... please go to the nearest guns and ammo shop and buy a box of ammo for an AR-15. Then, I need you to take the ammo out of the box and smuggle it to me in five round lots. I can conceal that many in my sock.”
"That I can do. But it's a risk. I think I'm going to hit the library too and do a little research. How do you want me to contact you again? It's going to look odd a soldier hanging around with a dock worker and there'll need to be some reason for the many contacts it will take to get that whole box of ammo to you."
She folded her arms and leaned up against the truck awaiting his response.
"I'll meet you here during the break time we get every evening. If anybody asks, we say nothing and everyone assumes what they usually assume when a young man uses his rest time to meet with an attractive young woman. You have your assignment. There are fifty rounds in a box. I'll see you here tomorrow night for the first five."
Aefe rolled her eyes but controlled her tongue. Her response was 'almost' civil. "Alright oh bossy little Gille-tòin. I will do this cause it makes sense. See you and your muscles tomorrow."
And with that quip, she went back to work.
Steve watched her go, regarding the play of her hips until she disappeared around the truck. A smirk played briefly across his lips. "Oh yeah. She wants me."
He took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, then walked back to barracks, whistling the first few bars of "Gypsy Rover," his hands in his pockets. His plan was progressing nicely.