A prelude to violence.
Title: A prelude to violence
Characters: Rafe 'Ghost' Miller, Liz Miller, Woodstock 'Woody' Collins.
Warning, language.
I blame
redjaywrites entirely for this. Will either be continued or improved at a later point. I read her newest short (written for yours truly no less) 'I fought the law'and had to write my own character's reactions. Rafe is not pleased.
“That isn’t FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH!” Rafe slammed his hand onto the table, which caused the entire congregation of mutants to jump as one. He glared at the assembled people around him. What were they doing? Talking calmly about numbers and times when one of their own was in the clutches of a man for whom rationality was a foreign concept. There was a reason Rafe had always avoided working with the other members of the Resistance team. It wasn’t, as many people suggested, that he didn’t play well with others or even that he was still sympathetic to Krumholtz and his psychopathic regime who he had admittedly been a double agent for, inside the Resistance team. In truth, it was the fact that one of the things that actually got Rafe angry was indecision and talks of plans when Rafe’s best (and at one point only) friend had been caught by the very man they were trying to remove from power. If Rafe had been left to his own devices, he already would have gone in all guns blazing and attempted to rip Krumholtz’s spine from his body with his bare hands for daring to attack one of Rafe’s friends. He was happy to admit, at this point, that it was probably better that he be halted by pointless talks.
“Rafe, sit down. We’re all worried about Woody, but we can’t afford to lose anybody else now” A matrimonial warning not worth ignoring, given the steel edge to Rafe’s wife’s voice. Liz, too, was struggling to keep calm. He could tell from the way she was apparently attempting to crush his thigh with her hand. Rafe would have ignored her, if he couldn’t hear the slightly wavering tone beneath the sharp edge, almost too faint to hear. He forced himself to sit and avoid all eye contact by staring fixedly at the wall.
It was unusual for Rafe to get angry; he doubted that anybody had seen him as anything other than the softly spoken Welsh man, especially considering many were convinced Rafe didn’t possess the ability to get angry. He was normally so softly spoken and often so quiet, it was easy to forget that he was there. He could only imagine that the sudden shift in character was shocking to them, but frankly didn’t care. Woody- Woodstock Collins was trapped underneath the Thames with an execution order hanging over his head and they were just talking.
Krumholtz had decided to broadcast Woody’s ‘trial’ to all of London on the Big Brother style screens that had been set up especially for the occasion. Woody had been all talk and confidence, or at least as much as could be expected given the situation, right up until the moment that Krumholtz had threatened Woody’s son. The moment Woody had been arrested; Rafe had sent Sammy and his own daughters to stay with his sister in Wales, far away from anything approaching technology or modern comfort. Anything to keep them away from any of this. Thankfully, all three children were young enough not to understand that they were essentially being evacuated from the city for their own safety- for them it was just a surprise holiday.
Rafe was normally the ideas man, who talked Woody down from his wilder ideas and suggested plans that were plausible. Well, not this time. He had the means and he had the beginnings of a plan and he was going to damn well succeed.
“I am going to get him out of there” Rafe began, in a low voice that was barely above a whisper that nevertheless carried across the entirety of the now silent room. His last outburst had stunted anything approaching conversation. “I’m just going to walk into the front door and ask <i>very nicely</i>. Lizzie, bring your knives. Drake, I’m going to need cover and a distraction” Nobody doubted that he could and would do exactly what he had implied. Rafe wasn't called Ghost for nothing; there were few places an invisible man could be kept out of. Without waiting for an answer, Rafe pushed himself away from the table. Whatever had been said before, his tone and posture was one of a man who would not be swayed. “Any questions? We leave in an hour”
Characters: Rafe 'Ghost' Miller, Liz Miller, Woodstock 'Woody' Collins.
Warning, language.
I blame
redjaywrites entirely for this. Will either be continued or improved at a later point. I read her newest short (written for yours truly no less) 'I fought the law'and had to write my own character's reactions. Rafe is not pleased. “That isn’t FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH!” Rafe slammed his hand onto the table, which caused the entire congregation of mutants to jump as one. He glared at the assembled people around him. What were they doing? Talking calmly about numbers and times when one of their own was in the clutches of a man for whom rationality was a foreign concept. There was a reason Rafe had always avoided working with the other members of the Resistance team. It wasn’t, as many people suggested, that he didn’t play well with others or even that he was still sympathetic to Krumholtz and his psychopathic regime who he had admittedly been a double agent for, inside the Resistance team. In truth, it was the fact that one of the things that actually got Rafe angry was indecision and talks of plans when Rafe’s best (and at one point only) friend had been caught by the very man they were trying to remove from power. If Rafe had been left to his own devices, he already would have gone in all guns blazing and attempted to rip Krumholtz’s spine from his body with his bare hands for daring to attack one of Rafe’s friends. He was happy to admit, at this point, that it was probably better that he be halted by pointless talks.
“Rafe, sit down. We’re all worried about Woody, but we can’t afford to lose anybody else now” A matrimonial warning not worth ignoring, given the steel edge to Rafe’s wife’s voice. Liz, too, was struggling to keep calm. He could tell from the way she was apparently attempting to crush his thigh with her hand. Rafe would have ignored her, if he couldn’t hear the slightly wavering tone beneath the sharp edge, almost too faint to hear. He forced himself to sit and avoid all eye contact by staring fixedly at the wall.
It was unusual for Rafe to get angry; he doubted that anybody had seen him as anything other than the softly spoken Welsh man, especially considering many were convinced Rafe didn’t possess the ability to get angry. He was normally so softly spoken and often so quiet, it was easy to forget that he was there. He could only imagine that the sudden shift in character was shocking to them, but frankly didn’t care. Woody- Woodstock Collins was trapped underneath the Thames with an execution order hanging over his head and they were just talking.
Krumholtz had decided to broadcast Woody’s ‘trial’ to all of London on the Big Brother style screens that had been set up especially for the occasion. Woody had been all talk and confidence, or at least as much as could be expected given the situation, right up until the moment that Krumholtz had threatened Woody’s son. The moment Woody had been arrested; Rafe had sent Sammy and his own daughters to stay with his sister in Wales, far away from anything approaching technology or modern comfort. Anything to keep them away from any of this. Thankfully, all three children were young enough not to understand that they were essentially being evacuated from the city for their own safety- for them it was just a surprise holiday.
Rafe was normally the ideas man, who talked Woody down from his wilder ideas and suggested plans that were plausible. Well, not this time. He had the means and he had the beginnings of a plan and he was going to damn well succeed.
“I am going to get him out of there” Rafe began, in a low voice that was barely above a whisper that nevertheless carried across the entirety of the now silent room. His last outburst had stunted anything approaching conversation. “I’m just going to walk into the front door and ask <i>very nicely</i>. Lizzie, bring your knives. Drake, I’m going to need cover and a distraction” Nobody doubted that he could and would do exactly what he had implied. Rafe wasn't called Ghost for nothing; there were few places an invisible man could be kept out of. Without waiting for an answer, Rafe pushed himself away from the table. Whatever had been said before, his tone and posture was one of a man who would not be swayed. “Any questions? We leave in an hour”