"That's a pretty nasty sprain, all right. You're going to want to stay off of that leg."
"Nyet! One does not remain on top of mercenary business by sittink around. Monstroso said you were best there was. I expect my leg to be in full workink order by the time I regroup with Black Hearts."
"You, uh, you might have a while on that," the little man said nervously. "The last time I saw them, Brock was kind of ... killing them."
"Impessable," Molotov spat. "Sempson would never kill a woman."
"They were giant flies at the time, maybe it didn't count, I don't know!" Billy mopped his brow. "And unless you want me to just replace your leg with a robotic one, you're going to have to take it easy for a while. I mean, the leg's not even everything that was wrong -- there were the bruises, the cracked ribs, the abrasions..."
"You try esceppink from fallink car carryink eight-hundred-pound supervillain and not hurtink anythink," Molotov said sullenly. Her single green eye darted around the bedroom. It was a comfortable prison -- when you were one of the world's top mercenaries, you could afford a very nice house -- but it was a prison all the same, to a woman who was used to fast cars and effortless backflips.
Billy did what he could for her, which didn't amount to much more than the advice, bandages, and a bottle of painkillers. She tossed him a wad of bills anyway, which that albino friend of his would undoubtedly piss away on video games, and shooed him out.
She laid there for a while until she could no longer stand the feel of the sweaty latex of her suit against her skin, and peeled it off like a used surgical glove. Then she hobbled to the bathroom and carefully drew a deep, bubbly bath. The hot water felt wonderful. Once she was in her civvies -- a pink sweatsuit -- she felt considerably better about things.
Maybe this wasn't a sentence after all. Maybe it was more like... a vacation. A rare chance to relax. The SPHINX operation was over. Monstroso had his own wounds to tend to. Samson thought she was dead -- at least she hoped he'd bought it -- and if her Black Hearts really had been eliminated, she didn't have a business to look after.
Her stomach rumbled -- she hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, and now the sun was almost up. She thought of the case of tasteless protein shakes chilling in her refrigerator. Her lips curved up in a smile.
Not today; I'm on vacation.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 7:36am on Dec 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
