Flashbacks.
So Drew is posting something whut.
Okay, so like Terrie and Sarah saw this opening loooong ago when it'd actually take place in Iceland...but then the idea fizzled out and I left it. I began tinkering with the idea again, doing a bunch of flashbacks-the last one sucks, but oh well.
Hunter is hilarious to write for, BTW.
“Samson? SAMSON!”
“Ah-eh?”
Brock Samson, secret agent, OSI, all-around terror to anyone fated enough to have to face off against him, shot up to attention, mere seconds before face in palm, elbow against the table, more bored than anything else and trying to think of something exciting to keep from falling asleep. It had been slow lately. He didn’t like slow.
Thankfully, Hunter calling to him meant something was up.
“Get your gear ready. Couple days, we’re going to Reykjavik.”
“What for?”
“Peace summit between us and the commies. Naturally, that means some killing’s gonna be going on and we need some people around to protect the president. Especially since nobody would ever think freaking Iceland would be the place one of them would die in.” Hunter pounded his fist to his chest. “BY GOD TECUMESEH’S CURSE WILL NOT COME BACK IF I CAN HELP IT!”
Brock just raised an eyebrow. Hunter usually spouted off things like that. He was used to it by now. “So, uh. Security’s gonna be tight?”
“You know it. Some of the best agents are already out there on either side. Having us around couldn’t hurt anymore, right?” He grinned; Brock couldn’t help but smile back. At least some of his stuff was passable for humor.
“So, uh, best agents. Better be careful…” Brock trailed off slightly. The thought had crossed his mind-would SHE be there?
The next instant brought him back to reality; Hunter’s hand backhanded him across his cheek. “SAMSON! Yes. Now why you trailed off I have to…oh, oh NO. You’re not thinking about the redhead again, aren’t you?”
“Uh-“
Hunter looked to the ceiling, a thoughtful look creasing against his face. “Samson, lemme tell you something. Women, they’re dangerous. Fine clothes, yes. Very fine. But still dangerous.” He then turned and looked straight into his protégé’s eyes. “You can’t be with her, my boy. Different sides. Different ideologues, different everything. And you know, even with that love-struck little heart of yours, that given half the chance she will probably kill you.”
A moment of silence passed between the two men, Brock looking more humbled than anything, Hunter keeping his steely gaze upon the other. Finally, Samson sighed.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Yes! By God. She’s POISON on your mind, Samson!"
------
He took a swig of their beer. They were sharing a bottle. Sharing was a good sign, right? Ri….”Argh.” He got up quickly from his stool, hand massaging temples. Christ, what was in this crap? He wasn’t feeling so well…
“Aaaaaww….Saaaaamsoooon….” Molotov purred at him. “Feeling a little rough? You know, too much alcohol can do terrible things to your system.” She leaned in close, her one eye intensely looking into the two increasingly half-shut ones of his. “Or maybe it’s the little poison that was mixed in, da?” She raised and waved a tiny bottle down in front of him. “But there IS an antidote.…”
A second bottle suddenly appeared in her other hand. He tried to reach for it. Feebly. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his chest, felt himself lying in the uncomfortable and unfamiliar position of being on his back, a red boot pressed onto his chest.
“That is, if you can tell me everything I want to know about what your men are doing a certain night…”
------
“See? I could even name you a literal example of that.” He stammered out. “My boy, let me tell you: I’ve known the reds for MY entire lifetime. Nothing good about them. Only trust them when there’s a greater threat and lord knows I doubt another tinpot dictator with an awful mustache will be around to get your little girlfriend to be fighting WITH us openly. God, THEY had a dictator with a goofy mustache!” Hunter looked concerned. Hands quickly placed on his protégé’s shoulders. “Doesn’t that TELL YOU SOMETHING!?”
“Well, you know. She’s…she’s still not that bad. I’ve had to deal with some other people involved over her.”
“Really now. Fighting off a bunch of other men for her affections?”
------
“HI-YAH!” He watched her toss a roundhouse kick that cracked the one mujahideen’s jaw into two pieces and take him down all the same time. Incredible.
He raised his palm and stopped another’s fist from flying to his own set of teeth, then wrapped his his hand around the other and twisted it at the wrist. A loud crack, a loud scream, and then flinging him into a bunch of his buddies. Music to his ears, really.
Within moments all of the insurgents were lying on the ground-dead, dying, or at least out of commission for a while. Brock and Molotov surveyed their work. She then gave him a glare.
“What are you doing here.”
“Found you while I was taking a quick tour for my group. Thought I’d lend a hand.”
“No. In general.”
“Was supposed to be helping these guys.”
“What are you, as an American, doing in a place you have no right to be here in?”
“Keeping you guys who have no right to be here in from doing anything really stupid to these guys.” He jabbed his thumb to one Afghan’s corpse.
“I see. Well, you failed.”
“Break a few eggs, make an omelet. You looked like you were in trouble, what with being surrounded by them.”
“I could have easily defeated all of them.”
“You got caught. Some commando.”
“Shut up, Samson.”
------
Brock let himself snap back to reality and looked straight to Hunter before he could say anything else. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”
“Hm. Well, maybe one of them will snag her and let your mind focus on other matters. Come on, Samson. Don’t fall in with the enemy. You have so much potential, so many wonderful years ahead of you! Don’t you ever THINK about your future?”
“Come on, Hunter! I’m doing my job, what the hell else can you freaking ask me for!”
“ Maybe we should remember that one time in Tokyo? What was supposed to be downtime for some of the boys? ME? I had to save your ass there, boy. On my downtime. You NEVER mess with a man’s time off!”
------
Tokyo.
“Look at this! Couple decades and they’re going to be taking over the world in economics!” Hunter extended his arms wide to indicate the bright, flashy, ritzy lights and nature of the Japanese capital. “Time flies by so fast. Anyways, go off and enjoy yourself, Brock. I will.” He gave a wide grin and began to head off into the nightlife.
Brock watched him go off, and then looked up to the street posts. Good, the signs told him he wasn’t too far off from where he was to go. It was only a short walk to the museum. Closed, but he wasn’t here for what was inside…taking a quick look for security, convinced none was about, he tossed the rope to the roof and began to climb.
“You’re early. Impressive.”
“I try.”
“Drink?” She held up a bottle.
“…no.”
Brock sat down at the edge of the roof and let his legs begin to dangle, a moment later Molotov joining him. They looked out to the city, seemingly never stopping, to the star-filled sky above…
“I have not been to Japan before,” she muttered, taking a swig from the bottle.
“Neither have I. Not different from New York, though.”
“You have left a negative mark on them, then.”
“Well, when you guys get out of the frozen wastelands, we’ll talk on how your towns are.”
A glare.
A shrug back, and several moments more of silence.
“So what are you doing now?”
“Freelancing.”
“Paying well?”
“Much better.”
“And that’s why you’re here.”
“No. Observe.” She moved her arm to her back-hello-and pulled from it a long sword. Damn. Still, why didn’t he notice she had a sword sheathed on her back? Well, he COULD answer that, but…
“Very fine, isn’t it?”She gave a sly grin as she glided her fingertip over the blade. “ It will be quite useful.”
“I didn’t think you watched enough cartoons as a kid to know Japan got all the cool swords.” A smirk from him, another glare from her. He shut up and looked out to the streets again.
“Perhaps you could take a cue from me and get a useful weapon.”
“I have all I need.”
“It wasn’t very useful last time when you and I met.”
“Just that one time!”
“Hmmm. Care to try and let me test this out, then?” She readied herself into a combat pose, katana above her, ready to cut.
“Not tonight…” He groaned. Couldn’t they have one night together that was quiet? Apparently not.
Still another glare. “No.” Still more glaring…”FINE.” He got up, stretched his neck, and waved his fingers for her to come. “Ladies first.”
She shrieked a warrior’s cry and rushed to him, always with her amazing speed-he considered himself lucky he just had a graze on his shoulder from her caring attempt to give him one less limb to worry about. He turned, knife suddenly in his hand, raised it upwards and heard the two blades clang very slightly against the other. Quickly he shifted his foot forwards and hit her shin, heard her grunt in surprised pain, and turned himself quickly toward her right as fast as he could: praying she wouldn’t press the blade to his side, his elbow slammed onto her back. The katana dropped (not that he felt something sharp in his abdomen, so much the better), and his left arm gave an uppercut that sent her onto her back.
He dropped his knife calmly to the ground and looked at her body as it lay there.
…shit. Her pride didn’t allow her to stay on the ground THAT long. He began to walk over when-
-“JESUS!” Dodged the dagger. Oh yeah, she had like an extra one strapped to her boot, didn’t she?
She had already been reaching for her sword, had it in her hands now, and looked at him with fury. His knife was seconds away from him on the ground if he wanted to try to grab it. He didn’t have a couple seconds…
He cocked his eyebrow, took a breath, and still looking at her leapt off the rooftop…
….Her surprise should be worth a couple seconds of recuperation once he hit the ground. A quick twist let him land on his feet, even better for getting a move on. He began to run, towards the city, towards the signs, towards the lights, and most importantly away from her-if she wanted to do something to him; she’d have to earn it.
He could actually hear her already catching up to him, pushing surprised and annoyed people out of her way through the crowded streets. He needed to take a quick bypass SOMEWHERE…and she’s getting closer….
He felt himself suddenly pulled at his side and taken into a building.
“Eh?” He looked around; suddenly he saw he was in a small room. Women with white faces and kimonos were speaking and acting coy with various business-suited men. Aw, man. Defiantly not what he expected as a hiding spot.
He looked to the lady who pulled him in. Short, really big robe around her, hiding herself behind some fan. She batted her eyelashes at him. Great.
At that point he then heard the door slam open.
“SAMSON!” Mol wasn’t happy.
She began to make her way through the geishas and their companions, sword already drawn, coming closer to him. He lifted himself up and grinned, letting her know he was confident. Well, he was….
The geisha who pulled him in got up, in front of him and looked up at Mol, face still covered by the fan she was holding in one hand. “Wait, HEY! LADY!” Brock said. What the hell?
“Out of my way.” Molotov simply said, ice in her voice.
Suddenly a very deep voice replied. “No.”
With a sudden rush he picked up a stool nearby with his free hand and slammed it across the woman’s face. She gave out a yelp more in surprise than pain, Brock watching her in complete awe as fall down to her hands and dropping her katana. Before she could reach for it a tabi sandal had slammed down on it.
“YOU TWO! HOLD HER DOWN!” Two other geisha immediately ran and grabbed Molotov’s arms.
“…HUNTER?!”
“Well, Samson. Great job. I had to go dress up today because I knew I’d be saving your ass and I was lucky enough to get a good look at where you might be going-“he jabbed a finger to Molotov-“SHE should find a less vibrant color to begin dying her hair with. I could see her for probably a mile away! And Christ, boy, did you have to tell her that we were all coming here? Mind giving her the nuclear codes while you’re at it? GOOD GOD, you two should have just gotten a room!”
“I….Hunter…”
“What is it? Spit it out! You look a little flushed. You need this more than I do?!” He handed over the fan. Brock noticed he hadn’t bothered to paint over his stubble.
“Hunter. You’re wearing a kimono.”
------
“See!? Nothing but trouble!” Hunter shook his head. “Someday you’ll thank me for this advice, you know. When she’s gutted you like a trout and you’re staring at your innards. THEN you’ll thank me, because THEN you’ll finally get the hint!” He pressed his palm to his temples. “I’m going to go get some coffee. Quitting time’s about to be here soon anyway.” He suddenly turned with a look of intensity on his face. “I expect you to be FRESH and with everything prepped first thing when I see you tomorrow!”
“I getcha, I getcha.” “Good. See you then.”
Brock watched him go off, and several moments more silence followed. Then he just shook his head in amusement. Even Hunter knew them better than that, didn’t he? Of course he did. Maybe with luck this trip would have something worth remembering thanks to her, too.
Okay, so like Terrie and Sarah saw this opening loooong ago when it'd actually take place in Iceland...but then the idea fizzled out and I left it. I began tinkering with the idea again, doing a bunch of flashbacks-the last one sucks, but oh well.
Hunter is hilarious to write for, BTW.
“Samson? SAMSON!”
“Ah-eh?”
Brock Samson, secret agent, OSI, all-around terror to anyone fated enough to have to face off against him, shot up to attention, mere seconds before face in palm, elbow against the table, more bored than anything else and trying to think of something exciting to keep from falling asleep. It had been slow lately. He didn’t like slow.
Thankfully, Hunter calling to him meant something was up.
“Get your gear ready. Couple days, we’re going to Reykjavik.”
“What for?”
“Peace summit between us and the commies. Naturally, that means some killing’s gonna be going on and we need some people around to protect the president. Especially since nobody would ever think freaking Iceland would be the place one of them would die in.” Hunter pounded his fist to his chest. “BY GOD TECUMESEH’S CURSE WILL NOT COME BACK IF I CAN HELP IT!”
Brock just raised an eyebrow. Hunter usually spouted off things like that. He was used to it by now. “So, uh. Security’s gonna be tight?”
“You know it. Some of the best agents are already out there on either side. Having us around couldn’t hurt anymore, right?” He grinned; Brock couldn’t help but smile back. At least some of his stuff was passable for humor.
“So, uh, best agents. Better be careful…” Brock trailed off slightly. The thought had crossed his mind-would SHE be there?
The next instant brought him back to reality; Hunter’s hand backhanded him across his cheek. “SAMSON! Yes. Now why you trailed off I have to…oh, oh NO. You’re not thinking about the redhead again, aren’t you?”
“Uh-“
Hunter looked to the ceiling, a thoughtful look creasing against his face. “Samson, lemme tell you something. Women, they’re dangerous. Fine clothes, yes. Very fine. But still dangerous.” He then turned and looked straight into his protégé’s eyes. “You can’t be with her, my boy. Different sides. Different ideologues, different everything. And you know, even with that love-struck little heart of yours, that given half the chance she will probably kill you.”
A moment of silence passed between the two men, Brock looking more humbled than anything, Hunter keeping his steely gaze upon the other. Finally, Samson sighed.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Yes! By God. She’s POISON on your mind, Samson!"
------
He took a swig of their beer. They were sharing a bottle. Sharing was a good sign, right? Ri….”Argh.” He got up quickly from his stool, hand massaging temples. Christ, what was in this crap? He wasn’t feeling so well…
“Aaaaaww….Saaaaamsoooon….” Molotov purred at him. “Feeling a little rough? You know, too much alcohol can do terrible things to your system.” She leaned in close, her one eye intensely looking into the two increasingly half-shut ones of his. “Or maybe it’s the little poison that was mixed in, da?” She raised and waved a tiny bottle down in front of him. “But there IS an antidote.…”
A second bottle suddenly appeared in her other hand. He tried to reach for it. Feebly. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his chest, felt himself lying in the uncomfortable and unfamiliar position of being on his back, a red boot pressed onto his chest.
“That is, if you can tell me everything I want to know about what your men are doing a certain night…”
------
“See? I could even name you a literal example of that.” He stammered out. “My boy, let me tell you: I’ve known the reds for MY entire lifetime. Nothing good about them. Only trust them when there’s a greater threat and lord knows I doubt another tinpot dictator with an awful mustache will be around to get your little girlfriend to be fighting WITH us openly. God, THEY had a dictator with a goofy mustache!” Hunter looked concerned. Hands quickly placed on his protégé’s shoulders. “Doesn’t that TELL YOU SOMETHING!?”
“Well, you know. She’s…she’s still not that bad. I’ve had to deal with some other people involved over her.”
“Really now. Fighting off a bunch of other men for her affections?”
------
“HI-YAH!” He watched her toss a roundhouse kick that cracked the one mujahideen’s jaw into two pieces and take him down all the same time. Incredible.
He raised his palm and stopped another’s fist from flying to his own set of teeth, then wrapped his his hand around the other and twisted it at the wrist. A loud crack, a loud scream, and then flinging him into a bunch of his buddies. Music to his ears, really.
Within moments all of the insurgents were lying on the ground-dead, dying, or at least out of commission for a while. Brock and Molotov surveyed their work. She then gave him a glare.
“What are you doing here.”
“Found you while I was taking a quick tour for my group. Thought I’d lend a hand.”
“No. In general.”
“Was supposed to be helping these guys.”
“What are you, as an American, doing in a place you have no right to be here in?”
“Keeping you guys who have no right to be here in from doing anything really stupid to these guys.” He jabbed his thumb to one Afghan’s corpse.
“I see. Well, you failed.”
“Break a few eggs, make an omelet. You looked like you were in trouble, what with being surrounded by them.”
“I could have easily defeated all of them.”
“You got caught. Some commando.”
“Shut up, Samson.”
------
Brock let himself snap back to reality and looked straight to Hunter before he could say anything else. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”
“Hm. Well, maybe one of them will snag her and let your mind focus on other matters. Come on, Samson. Don’t fall in with the enemy. You have so much potential, so many wonderful years ahead of you! Don’t you ever THINK about your future?”
“Come on, Hunter! I’m doing my job, what the hell else can you freaking ask me for!”
“ Maybe we should remember that one time in Tokyo? What was supposed to be downtime for some of the boys? ME? I had to save your ass there, boy. On my downtime. You NEVER mess with a man’s time off!”
------
Tokyo.
“Look at this! Couple decades and they’re going to be taking over the world in economics!” Hunter extended his arms wide to indicate the bright, flashy, ritzy lights and nature of the Japanese capital. “Time flies by so fast. Anyways, go off and enjoy yourself, Brock. I will.” He gave a wide grin and began to head off into the nightlife.
Brock watched him go off, and then looked up to the street posts. Good, the signs told him he wasn’t too far off from where he was to go. It was only a short walk to the museum. Closed, but he wasn’t here for what was inside…taking a quick look for security, convinced none was about, he tossed the rope to the roof and began to climb.
“You’re early. Impressive.”
“I try.”
“Drink?” She held up a bottle.
“…no.”
Brock sat down at the edge of the roof and let his legs begin to dangle, a moment later Molotov joining him. They looked out to the city, seemingly never stopping, to the star-filled sky above…
“I have not been to Japan before,” she muttered, taking a swig from the bottle.
“Neither have I. Not different from New York, though.”
“You have left a negative mark on them, then.”
“Well, when you guys get out of the frozen wastelands, we’ll talk on how your towns are.”
A glare.
A shrug back, and several moments more of silence.
“So what are you doing now?”
“Freelancing.”
“Paying well?”
“Much better.”
“And that’s why you’re here.”
“No. Observe.” She moved her arm to her back-hello-and pulled from it a long sword. Damn. Still, why didn’t he notice she had a sword sheathed on her back? Well, he COULD answer that, but…
“Very fine, isn’t it?”She gave a sly grin as she glided her fingertip over the blade. “ It will be quite useful.”
“I didn’t think you watched enough cartoons as a kid to know Japan got all the cool swords.” A smirk from him, another glare from her. He shut up and looked out to the streets again.
“Perhaps you could take a cue from me and get a useful weapon.”
“I have all I need.”
“It wasn’t very useful last time when you and I met.”
“Just that one time!”
“Hmmm. Care to try and let me test this out, then?” She readied herself into a combat pose, katana above her, ready to cut.
“Not tonight…” He groaned. Couldn’t they have one night together that was quiet? Apparently not.
Still another glare. “No.” Still more glaring…”FINE.” He got up, stretched his neck, and waved his fingers for her to come. “Ladies first.”
She shrieked a warrior’s cry and rushed to him, always with her amazing speed-he considered himself lucky he just had a graze on his shoulder from her caring attempt to give him one less limb to worry about. He turned, knife suddenly in his hand, raised it upwards and heard the two blades clang very slightly against the other. Quickly he shifted his foot forwards and hit her shin, heard her grunt in surprised pain, and turned himself quickly toward her right as fast as he could: praying she wouldn’t press the blade to his side, his elbow slammed onto her back. The katana dropped (not that he felt something sharp in his abdomen, so much the better), and his left arm gave an uppercut that sent her onto her back.
He dropped his knife calmly to the ground and looked at her body as it lay there.
…shit. Her pride didn’t allow her to stay on the ground THAT long. He began to walk over when-
-“JESUS!” Dodged the dagger. Oh yeah, she had like an extra one strapped to her boot, didn’t she?
She had already been reaching for her sword, had it in her hands now, and looked at him with fury. His knife was seconds away from him on the ground if he wanted to try to grab it. He didn’t have a couple seconds…
He cocked his eyebrow, took a breath, and still looking at her leapt off the rooftop…
….Her surprise should be worth a couple seconds of recuperation once he hit the ground. A quick twist let him land on his feet, even better for getting a move on. He began to run, towards the city, towards the signs, towards the lights, and most importantly away from her-if she wanted to do something to him; she’d have to earn it.
He could actually hear her already catching up to him, pushing surprised and annoyed people out of her way through the crowded streets. He needed to take a quick bypass SOMEWHERE…and she’s getting closer….
He felt himself suddenly pulled at his side and taken into a building.
“Eh?” He looked around; suddenly he saw he was in a small room. Women with white faces and kimonos were speaking and acting coy with various business-suited men. Aw, man. Defiantly not what he expected as a hiding spot.
He looked to the lady who pulled him in. Short, really big robe around her, hiding herself behind some fan. She batted her eyelashes at him. Great.
At that point he then heard the door slam open.
“SAMSON!” Mol wasn’t happy.
She began to make her way through the geishas and their companions, sword already drawn, coming closer to him. He lifted himself up and grinned, letting her know he was confident. Well, he was….
The geisha who pulled him in got up, in front of him and looked up at Mol, face still covered by the fan she was holding in one hand. “Wait, HEY! LADY!” Brock said. What the hell?
“Out of my way.” Molotov simply said, ice in her voice.
Suddenly a very deep voice replied. “No.”
With a sudden rush he picked up a stool nearby with his free hand and slammed it across the woman’s face. She gave out a yelp more in surprise than pain, Brock watching her in complete awe as fall down to her hands and dropping her katana. Before she could reach for it a tabi sandal had slammed down on it.
“YOU TWO! HOLD HER DOWN!” Two other geisha immediately ran and grabbed Molotov’s arms.
“…HUNTER?!”
“Well, Samson. Great job. I had to go dress up today because I knew I’d be saving your ass and I was lucky enough to get a good look at where you might be going-“he jabbed a finger to Molotov-“SHE should find a less vibrant color to begin dying her hair with. I could see her for probably a mile away! And Christ, boy, did you have to tell her that we were all coming here? Mind giving her the nuclear codes while you’re at it? GOOD GOD, you two should have just gotten a room!”
“I….Hunter…”
“What is it? Spit it out! You look a little flushed. You need this more than I do?!” He handed over the fan. Brock noticed he hadn’t bothered to paint over his stubble.
“Hunter. You’re wearing a kimono.”
------
“See!? Nothing but trouble!” Hunter shook his head. “Someday you’ll thank me for this advice, you know. When she’s gutted you like a trout and you’re staring at your innards. THEN you’ll thank me, because THEN you’ll finally get the hint!” He pressed his palm to his temples. “I’m going to go get some coffee. Quitting time’s about to be here soon anyway.” He suddenly turned with a look of intensity on his face. “I expect you to be FRESH and with everything prepped first thing when I see you tomorrow!”
“I getcha, I getcha.” “Good. See you then.”
Brock watched him go off, and several moments more silence followed. Then he just shook his head in amusement. Even Hunter knew them better than that, didn’t he? Of course he did. Maybe with luck this trip would have something worth remembering thanks to her, too.