Russian Roulette Redux
Title: Russian Roulette Redux
Author: Llama1412
The vibrations from the motor under Tyler's feet traveled up her calves. She stared out the window at the neighboring street, so like all the others in this city. In fact, to the average passer-by, there was absolutely nothing to distinguish this street, this parking lot, from the rest of the world. She traced the elaborate carving on the wooden music box in her lap and turned her attention to the digital numbers on the clock. Tyler knew the clock wasn't slow just to spite her; she had to be patient. That was supposed to be one of her strengths. She sent an irritated glance at the man next to her.
The driver's earpiece poked out from under his bowler hat and he murmured under his breath. The sleeves of his pinstripe suit were crumpled and she felt the urge to snap at him for it, make him appear as dignified as his costume implied. She refrained - it would be useless. Underlings could only ever pretend to have class; it would never sit quite right on their shoulders. With a huff, she turned back to the clock. As the numbers flipped to the hour, the driver cracked his knuckles and opened the door. "Ma'am?" He prompted.
Tyler drew the chain out of her shirt with her finger and leaned forward slightly to fit the necklace key into the slot. A sharp twist, and the box was ready. She pulled back and handed the box to the man. "Be careful," she said in a tone that implied 'don't fuck up'.
He didn't respond, his full attention on holding the box with care. She rolled her eyes as he turned away. It wasn't that fragile. Still, it was a good sign, him taking this so seriously. She tapped the mouse-pad of the laptop sitting on the dash and the screen sprang to life. It display the street in front of her and when her driver stepped into the frame, she punched the CD player to life. The first strains of In the Mood started and she thought of the way her father would be sitting in one of his many offices. She could picture him dancing to the trumpets and it brought a smile to her face. She drummed her fingers against the roof of the car with the beat. Just a few years ago, she would've been there with him, safely removed from the action. Not that she begrudged her father that. It had been fascinating to watch James control everything from the shadows, to see the way his face would light up when things went off without a hitch. Still, it was so much better to be part of things. She was one of the pieces in the puzzles and plans he had constantly floating through his mind, and she would make sure that it all worked the way it should.
Tyler hummed along to the music, eyes closed. She regretted her lapse in attention a moment later when the a loud boom through the neighboring street into a scene of flames and chaos. She pressed her hands against ears that rang with the force of the explosion and groaned, "shiiiiit." James was going to be pissed.
On cue, her phone vibrated in her breast pocket and she pulled it out. "If you're still alive, I want a replacement. Now." She could hear her father's harsh breathing over the line.
"I'm fine. Mostly. Speak up a bit?" She shook her head a bit, as if she could force her ears back into proper working order.
"You will take his place. Find the next person in the chain. They know to look for someone in pinstripes and a bowler hat. I trust you came prepared."
"Of course." She popped the glove box opened and flipped the slightly crushed hat onto her head with a flourish. "It will take me a few moments to finish wiring the replacement bomb."
"You have two minutes to get to the next site. Do not fail me." And be careful, he would've once said. But then, 'once' there wouldn't have been any number of recording devices and underlings listening in, just waiting for them to reveal too much. James wouldn't let that happen. She could give him sass, as long as she didn't outright defy him, but she couldn't be any more special than that, not to the others. Not after last time.
She shoved the door open and fetched a pinstripe suit jacket from the backseat. Underneath the fabric sat another music box, disconnected at the hinges. The insides, where the music box gears used to be, had been replaced by a tangled assortment of wiring. With steady hands, she separated one white wire from the top half of the box and one green wire from the bottom. It was the work of a few seconds to connect them; it took longer, in fact, to screw the hinges back into place. She reset the timer to account for her delay and snapped the two pieces of the box together.
Tyler straightened and pulled on the suit jacket. The box still in the backseat, she slid into the driver's spot, set the laptop in the passenger's seat, and put the car in gear. The next meeting site was less than a minutes' drive and there was no traffic, all of it stopped up and crowded around the bombsite. She went out the back entrance of the parking lot and made it there on schedule. She pulled up to the curb - there were no other cars anyway, and a traffic violation would be the least of her problems, all things considered - and jumped out of the car. With the bomb cradled in her arms, she toed the door shut and walked across the street, into position for when her quarry arrived. She tugged her necklace out, twisted the key, and activated the timer exactly as a young woman in a pencil skirt turned the corner. Tyler tucked the chain back under her collar and made eye contact with the woman. The lady made a beeline for Tyler; her steps were deliberate and mostly concealed the quivering of her limbs, but as she grew closer, Tyler could see it clearly. It had better not prove to be a problem.
When the woman stood in front of her, Tyler presented the package to her, bowed forward with her other arm held stiffly behind her back. The lady took it, ever so carefully, and cleared her throat. "Is it... the explosion, was that - ? I mean, this isn't..."
Tyler forced her lips into a smile. "You have three minutes."
The lady convulsed with a full body shiver, with the bomb fortuitously held tightly between her arms and her chest. She stared at Tyler for a moment until Tyler made a show of checking her watch. Then, the lady sucked in a noisy breath and marched off.
Once she'd turned the corner, Tyler pursed her lips and stretched before heading back to the car. She tapped the laptop again, toggled the screen to the block where the lady was walking, and drove back to her designated parking lot. She would watch the rest from there. Things had to work out now; she'd only had the one replacement handy and her bomb was the most important one.
Across the city, 8 people would have received their packages from men in bowler hats and pinstripes. By now, they'd have reached their hand-off points and delivered the bombs to the next person in the chain.
In the car, the next song on the album started. Tyler watched as the lady she'd given the bomb to stopped under a streetlight. A bearded man rose from his perch on steps leading up to an office building and approached her. Tyler clicked a few keys and the camera, re-purposed from the office building's security net and now for James' personal use, zoomed in. She could see the woman's lips move and wished momentarily that James' extensive education curriculum had included lipreading. The fleeting thought passed, though, and Tyler called her attention back to the moment as the lady passed the music box to the man. He gave her a sharp nod and strode away.
In two and a half minutes, he would pass the music box on to the next person in the chain. After that, six more people would take the box and each would bring it closer to its final goal. Tyler wondered what it must be like for them. They didn't know what they were carrying, not for certain, but they knew that they had no choice. If they knew that what they were carrying was so deadly, would they risk James' punishment and throw it aside? Or maybe they found it thrilling, the idea that once they passed it on, they'd survived. They only had to make it three minutes at most - the longest three minutes of their lives, perhaps - and then it would be done. At the end of the day, when they saw that James had in store for the city, when the bombs all went off, would they look back on it and be proud that they'd come so close and managed to escape alive?
Or maybe, Tyler thought, they'd wonder why they'd been forced to do this. Curiosity was a natural human trait, after all. She wondered if they'd guess who the target was. A lot of people would die, after all, when the bombs went off. And they'd be all different sorts of people - businessmen getting off of work, police officers patrolling their jurisdiction, high school students fooling around at the corner shop, even just a few elderly couples taking their poodles for a walk. Would they be able to guess which one was the important one? The couriers in the chain Tyler started, would they realize that they'd brought the bomb right up to the doorstep of the most important person?
But it didn't really matter, did it? Whether they realized or not, they were just pawns and sooner or later, they'd outlive their usefulness. It was almost a shame, so many people that really wouldn't live all that much longer. But that was what life was all about, wasn't it? Fighting to live as long as you could. And sometimes, that meant sending a bomb to the steps of the federal courthouse and taking care of the people who had hurt James. She was just glad she was the one he'd bestowed the honor of monitoring that particular bomb. Her part may be indirect, and maybe she didn't hold the prestige of being responsible for it all like James did, but in her own way, he was letting her take revenge on the man who had threatened her dad. Maybe later, as she grew older, James would let her take on even bigger roles; maybe he'd let her take care of people like that in person. But for now, this was enough. For now, it was just a matter of time until the city was rocked by nine separate explosions that were all James' personal work.
Author: Llama1412
The vibrations from the motor under Tyler's feet traveled up her calves. She stared out the window at the neighboring street, so like all the others in this city. In fact, to the average passer-by, there was absolutely nothing to distinguish this street, this parking lot, from the rest of the world. She traced the elaborate carving on the wooden music box in her lap and turned her attention to the digital numbers on the clock. Tyler knew the clock wasn't slow just to spite her; she had to be patient. That was supposed to be one of her strengths. She sent an irritated glance at the man next to her.
The driver's earpiece poked out from under his bowler hat and he murmured under his breath. The sleeves of his pinstripe suit were crumpled and she felt the urge to snap at him for it, make him appear as dignified as his costume implied. She refrained - it would be useless. Underlings could only ever pretend to have class; it would never sit quite right on their shoulders. With a huff, she turned back to the clock. As the numbers flipped to the hour, the driver cracked his knuckles and opened the door. "Ma'am?" He prompted.
Tyler drew the chain out of her shirt with her finger and leaned forward slightly to fit the necklace key into the slot. A sharp twist, and the box was ready. She pulled back and handed the box to the man. "Be careful," she said in a tone that implied 'don't fuck up'.
He didn't respond, his full attention on holding the box with care. She rolled her eyes as he turned away. It wasn't that fragile. Still, it was a good sign, him taking this so seriously. She tapped the mouse-pad of the laptop sitting on the dash and the screen sprang to life. It display the street in front of her and when her driver stepped into the frame, she punched the CD player to life. The first strains of In the Mood started and she thought of the way her father would be sitting in one of his many offices. She could picture him dancing to the trumpets and it brought a smile to her face. She drummed her fingers against the roof of the car with the beat. Just a few years ago, she would've been there with him, safely removed from the action. Not that she begrudged her father that. It had been fascinating to watch James control everything from the shadows, to see the way his face would light up when things went off without a hitch. Still, it was so much better to be part of things. She was one of the pieces in the puzzles and plans he had constantly floating through his mind, and she would make sure that it all worked the way it should.
Tyler hummed along to the music, eyes closed. She regretted her lapse in attention a moment later when the a loud boom through the neighboring street into a scene of flames and chaos. She pressed her hands against ears that rang with the force of the explosion and groaned, "shiiiiit." James was going to be pissed.
On cue, her phone vibrated in her breast pocket and she pulled it out. "If you're still alive, I want a replacement. Now." She could hear her father's harsh breathing over the line.
"I'm fine. Mostly. Speak up a bit?" She shook her head a bit, as if she could force her ears back into proper working order.
"You will take his place. Find the next person in the chain. They know to look for someone in pinstripes and a bowler hat. I trust you came prepared."
"Of course." She popped the glove box opened and flipped the slightly crushed hat onto her head with a flourish. "It will take me a few moments to finish wiring the replacement bomb."
"You have two minutes to get to the next site. Do not fail me." And be careful, he would've once said. But then, 'once' there wouldn't have been any number of recording devices and underlings listening in, just waiting for them to reveal too much. James wouldn't let that happen. She could give him sass, as long as she didn't outright defy him, but she couldn't be any more special than that, not to the others. Not after last time.
She shoved the door open and fetched a pinstripe suit jacket from the backseat. Underneath the fabric sat another music box, disconnected at the hinges. The insides, where the music box gears used to be, had been replaced by a tangled assortment of wiring. With steady hands, she separated one white wire from the top half of the box and one green wire from the bottom. It was the work of a few seconds to connect them; it took longer, in fact, to screw the hinges back into place. She reset the timer to account for her delay and snapped the two pieces of the box together.
Tyler straightened and pulled on the suit jacket. The box still in the backseat, she slid into the driver's spot, set the laptop in the passenger's seat, and put the car in gear. The next meeting site was less than a minutes' drive and there was no traffic, all of it stopped up and crowded around the bombsite. She went out the back entrance of the parking lot and made it there on schedule. She pulled up to the curb - there were no other cars anyway, and a traffic violation would be the least of her problems, all things considered - and jumped out of the car. With the bomb cradled in her arms, she toed the door shut and walked across the street, into position for when her quarry arrived. She tugged her necklace out, twisted the key, and activated the timer exactly as a young woman in a pencil skirt turned the corner. Tyler tucked the chain back under her collar and made eye contact with the woman. The lady made a beeline for Tyler; her steps were deliberate and mostly concealed the quivering of her limbs, but as she grew closer, Tyler could see it clearly. It had better not prove to be a problem.
When the woman stood in front of her, Tyler presented the package to her, bowed forward with her other arm held stiffly behind her back. The lady took it, ever so carefully, and cleared her throat. "Is it... the explosion, was that - ? I mean, this isn't..."
Tyler forced her lips into a smile. "You have three minutes."
The lady convulsed with a full body shiver, with the bomb fortuitously held tightly between her arms and her chest. She stared at Tyler for a moment until Tyler made a show of checking her watch. Then, the lady sucked in a noisy breath and marched off.
Once she'd turned the corner, Tyler pursed her lips and stretched before heading back to the car. She tapped the laptop again, toggled the screen to the block where the lady was walking, and drove back to her designated parking lot. She would watch the rest from there. Things had to work out now; she'd only had the one replacement handy and her bomb was the most important one.
Across the city, 8 people would have received their packages from men in bowler hats and pinstripes. By now, they'd have reached their hand-off points and delivered the bombs to the next person in the chain.
In the car, the next song on the album started. Tyler watched as the lady she'd given the bomb to stopped under a streetlight. A bearded man rose from his perch on steps leading up to an office building and approached her. Tyler clicked a few keys and the camera, re-purposed from the office building's security net and now for James' personal use, zoomed in. She could see the woman's lips move and wished momentarily that James' extensive education curriculum had included lipreading. The fleeting thought passed, though, and Tyler called her attention back to the moment as the lady passed the music box to the man. He gave her a sharp nod and strode away.
In two and a half minutes, he would pass the music box on to the next person in the chain. After that, six more people would take the box and each would bring it closer to its final goal. Tyler wondered what it must be like for them. They didn't know what they were carrying, not for certain, but they knew that they had no choice. If they knew that what they were carrying was so deadly, would they risk James' punishment and throw it aside? Or maybe they found it thrilling, the idea that once they passed it on, they'd survived. They only had to make it three minutes at most - the longest three minutes of their lives, perhaps - and then it would be done. At the end of the day, when they saw that James had in store for the city, when the bombs all went off, would they look back on it and be proud that they'd come so close and managed to escape alive?
Or maybe, Tyler thought, they'd wonder why they'd been forced to do this. Curiosity was a natural human trait, after all. She wondered if they'd guess who the target was. A lot of people would die, after all, when the bombs went off. And they'd be all different sorts of people - businessmen getting off of work, police officers patrolling their jurisdiction, high school students fooling around at the corner shop, even just a few elderly couples taking their poodles for a walk. Would they be able to guess which one was the important one? The couriers in the chain Tyler started, would they realize that they'd brought the bomb right up to the doorstep of the most important person?
But it didn't really matter, did it? Whether they realized or not, they were just pawns and sooner or later, they'd outlive their usefulness. It was almost a shame, so many people that really wouldn't live all that much longer. But that was what life was all about, wasn't it? Fighting to live as long as you could. And sometimes, that meant sending a bomb to the steps of the federal courthouse and taking care of the people who had hurt James. She was just glad she was the one he'd bestowed the honor of monitoring that particular bomb. Her part may be indirect, and maybe she didn't hold the prestige of being responsible for it all like James did, but in her own way, he was letting her take revenge on the man who had threatened her dad. Maybe later, as she grew older, James would let her take on even bigger roles; maybe he'd let her take care of people like that in person. But for now, this was enough. For now, it was just a matter of time until the city was rocked by nine separate explosions that were all James' personal work.