Konradexius

 In forty-one minutes, the defenses of isle Fuisti would go offline, providing twenty-three  minutes in which the Perses weapon would be accessible.  At his current rate of travel, Jack expected to arrive at the facility proper in 35 minutes, leaving the full 23 for infiltrating the base and 6 to spare for distractions along the way.  These numbers were foremost in Jack's mind; silently counting the seconds as he traversed the island, occasionally checking his pocket watch to ensure an accurate countdown.      2,042 seconds until security shutdown.  2,040. 2,039.  There was not sufficient time for  Jack to dry his clothes, or to treat the ele

 Jack breathed quietly, crouching behind a large tree root.  Possible complications had arisen rather sooner than expected, in the form a lone figure clad in silvery armor.  Alone, lacking overt equipment aside from simple hiking gear.  Curious armor; clearly military-grade.  Clearly male, as indicated by a young voice.  The man was facing away from Jack's hiding place, and seemed to be concluding a phone conversation.  "...I'll keep in touch, Doc." Lone agent, reporting to a superior officer.  Unlikely to be working for a government or mercenary company.  Yet obviously working under someone, presumably a small independent agency or an ambi

 Drawing close to Isle Fuisti, the sun shone majestically over the small tropical island, and the sea was clear enough that one could clearly see the marine life living beneath the surface.  Jack counted 19 different phenomenons that were commonly considered beautiful as the Yacht slowed to a halt shortly outside of the kill zone. Next to Jack, piloting the craft, was a middle aged man.  Out of shape, slightly tanned, expensive tailored sailing clothes, and a small assortment of fine jewelry.  Recently retired, intent upon enjoying alone time about his new luxury yacht with his wife.  His name was David.  Jack had been able to infer all of

 It was 8:34 am, and Jack had sat down for breakfast when he stopped to watch a spider die.  The tiny creature was barely half a centimeter across, Jack estimated, and it had had the terrible luck to descend from the ceiling on its infinitesimal thread directly into Jack's coffee. Now the poor creature struggled helplessly in the hot beverage.  Jack contemplated, briefly, whether or not it felt fear or despair as it slowly stopped twitching.  He concluded that this was unlikely.  Had he been able, he might have felt sympathy for it; and yet, were he able, he would have had no reason to.  Many things were lost to Jack, but the irony was not.

 Torque took a long look around the room as he began to walk up its length.  As he walked, he noted the two glorious stained-glass windows, depicting several well-renowned previous Grand Marshals on opposing sides of the room's center.  In daylight, they would certainly illuminate the Hall with a smattering of vibrant colors, but right now, they served only as an entry point for a small, angry man in a giant mechanical suit. With a shower of multicolored glass, the mech burst through the central window, and landed heavily on a long table, which broke like a child's toy under a careless boot.  "Bring it on, Sohnne des Hundes!" The small man

He woke to the sight of a starry sky.  Torque groggily assessed his situation. Despite being badly gassed, he lived.  He twitched his steel fingers; the connection between man and metal persevered.  He tried to do the same with his real fingers, but pained flared through his arm.  The memory of a laughing man with a gun flashed through Torque's mind with the speed of a gunshot.  He recognized the familiar feel of cotton bandages pressing against the bullet wound in his left shoulder, as well as the faint sting of disinfectant.  Dimly, he was aware that he'd been moved.   H