MF1.0 - 30 - Table Talk

Stef slammed the door closed, took a deep breath, then walked over to where Ryan was waiting. The buzz cut was standing beside him, and it was fairly obvious the shots she had heard were the least of the fight.

His shirt was covered in blood, he had cuts up and down his arms, and he looked a lot worse for the wear. He had a handkerchief in his hand and an angry expression on his face.

‘What’d you do?’ he said as he spat into he handkerchief. ‘Hide the entire time?’

She blinked, then looked to Ryan. ‘I assessed the situation.’

‘And your assessment?’ the agent asked as the buzz cut made faces at her.

‘Was only dangerous because it was provoked. Had not harmed civilians – and before you ask how I know, I asked, and if it was open about its intent to eat me, there would be no reason to lie about doing it to others.’

Ryan’s expression remained expectant.

‘With no further information, I extrapolated that I was to judge the situation independently. It didn’t warrant the use of my…the gun.’

‘I don’t know what you had on your side, geek, but I was dealing with some viscous little bastard who wanted to disembowel me.’

She glared at him. ‘What was it?’

‘Huh?’

‘Eloquent. What was it? What kind of creature attacked you?’

‘Humanoid. Crappy dresser. Furry.’

‘What did it identify itself as?’

‘Didn’t. It attacked me.’

‘Were you brandishing your detachable penis?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Miss Mimosa…’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Shoot first and ask questions later doesn’t really work, you know. You went into its home, carrying a weapon, what would you do if someone walked into your house holding a club full of nails?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘I would…’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Exactly.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Three drinks and a pair of shorts on the angry femme,’ a voice said. There was a coughed response to this.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She turned to look, hearing the sound of a safety click off as she did. The hob she’d encountered, and one that looked similar enough to be his twin, albeit one with several bullet wounds, walked toward them.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Ryan turned to the buzz cut and the gun in his hand disappeared. The agent nodded to the hobs, who smiled in return, then faded away.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘I…killed it.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Mister Stern, killing a spirit takes more than a few simple gunshots. A fact you should be glad of.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘It attacked me,’ he said again, but the arrogance had disappeared from his voice.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘If you had taken his life, without cause, you would likely be buried alive under concrete.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She couldn’t help the smirk on her face. Still, cat-killing curiosity coursed through her. ‘Folklore is wrong?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Sometimes,’ Ryan replied. ‘In the case of the hobs, however, it is simply incomplete.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘So who passed?’ the buzz cut – and he was going to remain nothing but a bad hair cut to her, wastes of carbon didn’t deserve a name – asked as he pocketed the handkerchief.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘The differences in how you handled it will be taken into account.’ He looked to the ceiling. ‘Agent Taylor will be here shortly to supervise the final test.’ He indicated to the side. ‘There is refreshment over there.’ With that, he faded from view.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She trailed behind the bleeding buzz cut as he made a beeline for the table and the water bottles. Part of her was acutely aware of the fact that she was armed, and he wasn’t – though that didn’t mean much, she was fairly certain she wasn’t allowed to kill him.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">He tore the cap off one of the bottles and doused his head. ‘I don’t know what pussy half-assed effort you put in, but I showed I was willing to get my hands dirty.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Let me get the world’s smallest audience for you. You managed to “kill” an innocent creature. You seem to be more in line with the Solstice’s ideals.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘I don’t know how they think, but I know there are some things that don’t belong in this world.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She put the bottle of water down. ‘And you get to decide what belongs and what doesn’t? Like some…QA supervisor with a smite button?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Someone needs to.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘How about someone with the frame of reference to make the right choice?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘I made the right choice. I made the choice to save my human life. Why the hell are you being defending them?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She fixed her best stone-cold-bitch stare on him. ‘Because humanists piss me off.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Someone has to look out for our interests.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘If you could, would you kill that hob, just in case it attacked you again? Or one you saw scavenging in a dumpster?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘What doesn’t belong, doesn’t belong.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Suddenly, her gun felt very heavy.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She took a sip of water, then carefully set the bottle back down. ‘Is that a yes?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Sure.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">In one awkward movement, she lifted her gun and fired.