Teensy Writing Bits

A little tiny blog where I write tiny pieces of stories I think of...

[snipputs]

8- Sleeper Agent

Zaiah knocked on the old apartment door and took a half-step back. It was still chilly this time of year-- at least by Seattle standards-- and he rarely left Cutter territory anyway. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he exhaled forcefully and cast a wary glance towards the corners of the hallway ceiling. No security cameras... at least visible ones. He wasn’t assured. The musing was cut short as Ryker opened the door abruptly, making her cautious compatriot jump. The petite blonde’s face-- normally curated to express a careful, young naivete, was marred by bruises and cuts. No acts today, it seemed. She was beat to shit and not feeling up to the usual masks.  “Hey, Zay’. Long time,” she muttered, pushing the door open enough with her shoulder for him to catch as she limped back into the barren apartment. Zaiah followed, mouth agape for a moment before he found his words.  “Shit.. what happened?” he croaked, instinctively heading for the medicine cabinet. Ryker settled stiffly into a chair at her little kitchen table, rolling her shoulders painfully.  “Miscalculation. Sywren didn’t find me as charming as the Shrike cover.”  Zaiah set the med kit down beside her and tilted her head up to look at him, thumb under her chin. Black eye, a split lip, and plenty of superficial cuts. It looked as bad as it probably felt.  “Multiple times, I take it?” “You could say that.” 

[snipputs]

7- Déjà vu

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I have had plenty of story ideas, but I haven’t gone into writing them down. Not like I have many people reading these anyway, but anywho, hope you like it. --- Ivy feels like she had been asleep for a long time. It's not the heaviness in her eyelids or the stiff ache woven into every movement, but something deeper. She sits up slowly, the cheap cot creaking softly on recycled springs, and runs a hand through cropped hair. She can’t remember how long she had been growing it, but it’s reached that awkward in-between shag that isn’t quite passable for alternative style. 

To be fair, she can’t even picture whatever she’d been going for when she cut it in the first place. What had it turned out like? Strange, probably. Not like this was the only blank spot in her past, though some days it was hard to separate what was simply forgotten in mundane life and what was oddly out of place. This was something she found herself thinking about more and more lately. Surely she was just being forgetful. Aside from the occasional runner gig, it wasn’t like her life had that much excitement to remember. Still, it itched at the back of her mind. Something wasn’t quite.. right, was it? 

[snipputs]

6- Reconaissance

She was suspended roughly six stories up, her feet expertly anchored around the cord that held her. There had been a rain shower earlier, but her clothes had begun to dry. It made her a little cold, but without a steady breeze it wasn’t distracting enough to be a problem.  It was convenient to work from the skyline. Her hands were free, she could retract the cable in any unprecedented emergency, and best of all: People rarely look up. Besides, when the world is upside down, you get less caught up in petty details.  The agent carefully reached into her canvas pocket, producing a handheld device. She turned it over in her hands, assuring her grip was good, and held it out toward a particularly extravagant penthouse kiddycorner from her. It loaded slowly and then began a data readout. The numbers and percentages meant nothing to her, but Switchvolt might be able to make something out of them.  “Shrike, are you in position?” The ping sharpened her senses and she hurriedly tapped the comm with one hand hooked up to her cochlear device.  “Mm-hm, just hanging out.” 

[snipputs]

5- Dorm

Dorm 8B’s hallway was empty. The RA must have already come through, but the three students kept their footsteps light. The first, a tall, athletic girl with an amber bob and dusted freckles, walked in careful, long strides ahead of the other two. The lookout. Behind her, a boy supported their friend-- another around the same age--who hopped awkwardly on an injured foot... At least, to his credit, he did so as quietly as he could.  Luckily, no interference from patrolling RAs or campus security interrupted their stealth run back to Apartment 804. The girl nearly dropped her keys rattling the recycled lock open, but as soon as it gave way she stood aside and ushered her companions in.  “Where’s Ashley?”  “Where is she every night, Zaiah? She met some guy at the frat house and I’ll see her when they break up. Now just put Hayden on the couch.” Zaiah pressed his lips together and dumped his companion on the couch unceremoniously. Hayden groaned in protest, sitting up to gingerly work on getting his shoes off.  “Erinn--” Zaiah turned to see where the girl had gone, trailing into the bathroom to find her rummaging in the cramped medicine cabinet. “Shouldn’t we be calling for... I don’t know.. backup or something?” She didn’t answer right away, producing a half-empty bottle of Ibuprofen and tossing it into Zaiah’s open hands.  “My parents made me a med kit when I moved in, just gotta remember where I put it.” She breezed past him to the room she shared with Ashley. Zaiah followed, still protesting.  “I don’t think bandaids and ibuprofen can fix this--” “We’ve bounced back from worse. Are you hurt?” “What?” “Are you okay?” “Wh--Yes, yes, I’m fine. Erinn--?” She shut the drawer she had been searching through abruptly, silencing the boy. His questioning glance remained, boring into her with that damn annoying concern. Friends since childhood, she knew that look all too well.  “What we did was stupid. We can’t do this again. It could have been a lot worse.” she said in a low voice. She didn’t want Hayden to hear. “It’s nothing like the movies, ‘Zay. We can’t keep doing this.”  He simply stood there as she brushed past him again, tiny sewing kit in hand. 

[snipputs]

4- Home

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the cramped space, facing forward. The silence was heavy between them and the senescent apartment’s elevator moved at a crawl. Each number on the worn button panel illuminated and went out in succession, though the pace left the mute purgatory deafening.  Mira only came up to Recon’s shoulder, so her anxious glance up was obvious. She was relieved he didn’t catch it, as his eyes were downward. He was taking off his gloves, folding them unceremoniously in his hand. What looked just like stains on the grey fabric was red--flaking to a dull brown on his light skin. He made an effort to brush off his palms on his pants when he caught her eyes, but she looked away. Not like she looked much better. Might as well have just left a war zone. “No one wanders the halls here this late at night,” he assured her quietly, tucking his mask into the collar of his shirt and zipping up the hoodie nonetheless. The band of color she sported across her eyes had all but smeared off anyway, but she still offered a slight nod in acknowledgement. Neither gave a damn at this point. They had been meticulous not to be followed, something Mira had learned from her time working with Recon. Despite his tough build and soldier-like precision in a fight, the man was cautious--maybe overly so-- and flighty as all hell. Not like she knew that much about him outside of costume, and he didn’t offer much when she did ask. No, she didn’t have the slightest picture of Recon’s life before he was...well...Recon. What she did have to show for months of working with the vigilante was a secondary home, a bed, and a tiny cubicle of a shower to wash off the city’s blood, sweat, and grime. 

Perhaps that was all she could ask for in their town these days, but it was somebody watching her back, and somebody willing to keep an eye out so at least one of them could get an hour or two of sleep. 

[snipputs]

3- Town

“It never gets old.”  Kilo’s gaze broke from the skyline, redirecting to her compatriot. They sat together on the bough of the old Elite base, not far from the downtown lights. It used to be full of life here as well, but the past year’s events had all but turned the district into a ghost town. They didn’t mind, it gave them a hunting ground. It was sometimes difficult to tell where Recon was looking on account of his mask, but the unusual wistfulness of his voice hinted at his distraction. She sighed in response, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her thighs. The movement was enough to prompt the other vigilante onward.  “I just mean the city. Going all hours of day and night, y’know? Like nothing’s changed.” So much had, though. From logic’s standpoint, the rest of their home would be as dim and empty as the Elite’s district. Recon wondered if it was simply stubbornness-- people so set in their life that no chaos on the city’s edges could drive them to leave-- or faith-- faith that maybe something good would come out of the crossfire in the end. Neither struck him as a good reason.  Kilo cut into the musing, finally speaking up. ”...People grasp at any sense of normalcy after tragedy.”  That afforded the masked man a chuckle as he got to his feet. “Well, that or they don masks and take the fight into their own hands.” 

[snipputs]

2- Descending

It was a long ride... the kind where your stomach hasn’t quite settled back into space and wedges a lump in your chest. It didn’t help that the elevator Samira found herself sandwiched within had open grated paneling on all six surfaces. The cool subterranean breeze washed up around her and escaped towards the quickly departing light source above. She did not allow herself to cast a glance down.  It was a quiet cacophony with the scrape of metal on rock, the whine of the cables, the hiss of air weaving from the floor and out through the ceiling. She felt exposed in the empty black, though she was entirely alone. Soon she’d reach the bottom, then they would send the metal box up for Arie. They would continue on. 

[snipputs]

1- Cave Tunnel

The tongues of flame licked the low tunnel’s pockmarked ceiling, swallowing their beacon’s light and only allowing about a five foot window of visibility in front of them. Logic told Arie that the echoes were just their footsteps, little scrapes and scuffles from the party’s procession down the claustrophobic passage. Something else in the pit of his stomach told him not to look back anyway. When the tunnel finally widened, it did so rapidly. The walls fanned out and departed into darkness, leaving only the uneven sandstone to mutely reflect the lonely torch. Arie brought up the procession’s rear, noting mentally that the tunnel didn’t feel so unwelcome anymore. The change in scenery was disorienting, causing the team to trail from a straight line to a clumped, uneven huddle. Samira crouched by Wiles, sitting on her heels and offering a sip from her canteen to the slim, older man. He accepted graciously, nodding at Arie as he joined them.  “Going around in goddamn circles..” he muttered, passing the leather pouch back to Samira. Arie shrugged, casting an uneasy glace at their companions, three Captains clustered around a map and their single light source. They were talking quietly, as not to raise attention to their bickering. It wasn’t fooling anyone.