Fly's hands wrought the shifter's leather grip and he shuddered.
But Fly could tell somehow that these two were here with a
purpose.

Oh? How so.

explained in the next paragraph

Fly was not nearly as stupid as he acted,

But then, most single celled organisms weren't that dumb either. :)

fly sounded like a good burnout name, though i may have gotten it from the
downward spiral

  The only problem was that they never looked at the things
they were concentrating on. While common bats have a membrane
in their throats that resonates at an ultra sonic frequency to effect
sonar, spiderbats constantly emit and receive low levels of Z-ray
radiation to produce biological radar. They knew the exact location
of every substantial body within a hundred yards of themselves,
and did not need to use their vestigial eyes to see any of it

Neat

  The second they had landed, Chris had abandoned the car,
commanding Fly to follow him. But he hesitated, thinking they
would be open targets out there and declined to leave his seat.

Hindsight is so 20/20.

  Peaking

Peeking

  Looking at the dark steering wheel in front of him, the
over-obvious solution to his dilemma revealed itself. He was in a
twenty-four cylinder Ford Cobra, after all. Chris had told him to
stay put, but so what.

so what? (I think)

again, a rhetorical statement

  The spiderbat bleated a howling cry, and flew right through
the Cobra's windshield into Fly's face.

Ouchie

  Fly tried to brake, but his legs would not respond. Gobs of
organic Anthanol dripped out of the spiderbat's mouth and into the
gapping chest wounds he had suffered.

Sounds like he'sa  goner.

da.

Fly was too afraid to touch

the black oily lions

lion's

 head that filled the front of the cab, but

managed to grab a stiletto out of his torn jacket and jam it in the
creature.

Where? Neck? Head? I think here telling us is a good idea.

ok, umm..... neck.

  "No! Brake! Damn it don't go over!"

Nah. Go ahead. You might take it with you.

wouldnt hurt it

  "Fly!" Chris yelled to him as he hung onto the Cobra's
front bumper in the middle of the air.

What? It broke off in his grasp?

ha ha ha, no its still on the car

  Chris concentrated on the spot where he estimated the car
was going to fall, and pushed it away from him. Reaching through
the windshield, he hung onto Fly's shirt, and the two of them were
lifted away from the falling car, and landed softly on the garage's
second story.

My my. Didn't realize he had powers too.

no body knows. its a secret. (ooooh.)

  He pointed to Chris's gun and tried to speak without
choking. Saliva dribbled down his chin, and Chris got the message.
He handed over the weapon and stood back, refraining from the
urge to try to reason it out. Chris would have done the same in a
similar situation. Fly pointed the weapon at his own head.

Then pointed it at Chris and fired. "Taking you, with me," Fly gurgled

out.

Fly's body and stopped near a pile of discarded traffic cones where
he had landed earlier. There was no safety to be offered but he
turned around and issued another force blast at the rushing
spiderbat anyway. It had no effect.

Hmm. Is he too weak, or are they immune?

they can do it too. another secret.

  With its powerful legs and a smug cry, it flailed without
turning and smashed Fly into the car he rested on. The blood and
scraps of clothing that defiled the concrete were not helping Chris
calm himself; he, growling at his frustration, and intending to keep
it away from him at any cost. Psionics was merely a manipulation
of magnetrons, and a sharp enough manipulation would be
equivalent to a gunshot, especially for the very talented. Chris
concentrated and tensed his muscles, but again the spiderbat shook
his assault off. As if returning the look, the bat turned back toward
Chris, and he felt a force wave hit him right below the sternum.

Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

 He

flew over the edge of the garage's second floor and fell eleven feet
down onto the patch of grass below. Supernovae

Heh. Never seen the plural of that before. I suppose it's because one is
usually enough. :)

hahaha, you see the one where homer gets his foot caught on a clothes line,
and hes flying twoards a bunch of sharp plants and he yells 'Wahh! Cactae!'

  Zig's face faded to an image, and Chris walked away into
the disturbed crowd, thinking of other pressing matters. South
Capitol Plaza was thick with the heat, and he had to get far away
from that place. With any luck no one would recognize him as
Christopher Dais, known terrorist and all around *bad person.*

No argument there, although determined person would suit him as well.

hes being sort of sarcastic here i think. like 'well fuck me, i sure am an
evil bastard.' i liked it.

  Dying is very, very hard. Don't ever let anyone tell you
different. And quasi-divine parturition

Oooh. I big word. I'm going to have to look that one up.

parturition: n., the holy act of taking a crap so big it tops the water
line.

had fluorescent bulbs on the other sides of the mirrors, which
naturally amplified them. It did not feel like I had been here
consciously before, though I would be the first to admit that my
memory was not what it used to be.

Heh

  Nothing to do but sit up and look around. There were recent
scars on my stomach,

Probably from a C-Section. :)

heh

  I was not hungry or thirsty, and luckily I did not have to
relieve myself because there certainly was no toilet in here. I
perused myself in the mirrors, and seriously had to guess my age. I
figured I was in my late twenties, and was decently built. Any
more than that was mere conjecture.

Hmm. Memory loss. Temporary, I assume.

and body dynamics

So I sat on the mirrored floor,

and tried to remember how I had gotten here. I came up with
nothing. The last thing I remembered was standing-floating,
really, over empty space. It was an infinitely deep pit other than
which I could see nothing else.

'other than which' sounded awkward to me. Recommend redoing it.

right maybe: 'which obscured everything else'

 This was probably just the dream I

had had before waking up, but it seemed real enough. Before that:
blurry memories of being in Zig's apartment, and peacefully
smoking green leaves. That was it. It hurt to try to go farther, so I
didn't.

Okay. So he does remember some things.

  What was wrong with me? Even a child could do five days
in the hole.

Actually they can do nine months inside the womb if it comes to that. :)

uh

because at least with that your mind stayed occupied. Here, the
satan was myself, looking at me with my own unfamiliar face,
mocking my attempts to move in any other direction than he did.
He mimicked my expressions, my emotions, and would not leave
me to my sorrow. It was time directly deducted from my life span,
and hours later I did not know how much more I could take.

At least several more chapters. I know, because they've already been

posted.

^_^

heh

  2:32 AM. Zero hours of sleep. Thirteen cups of Hi-Caff
coffee. About forty little packets of sugar, three and a half bags of
twizzlers,

Just finished one of those. And I think 'Twizzlers' need to be

capitalized.

true

  John Cohen squinted through his ViewLink(tm)

ditch the (tm) It's distracting.

it works in word where it puts it in the corner where its supposed to be

aser scope,

and saw a grainy picture of a valet taking car keys from Mandate
Director Mark Nyles. The youth politely refused the tip that was
offered him, and then sat down to drive the car away. Nyles
walked up a flight and a half of wide marble steps and entered City
Hall, the tall square structure sitting in the exact center of the city.

  Sweeping thirty degrees to his right, Cohen adjusted the
focus knob on the laser sight and now saw Abrahms

saw the

  "Because half your men have never been to the top of this
building before, and need to be instructed on their role in the
operation. It's simple. Cohen, I like you. You're like the son I
could never get rid of.

Heh

  He took out his CB radio, and turned it to the highest freq.

Again I'd spell out frequency

  "This is number two,

Think all the 'Number X' need to be capitalized, both number and numeral,
since it's being used as their names.

ok

  "Me and her and about half the gang are up here on the roof
of the-- well, on the roof of the building we discussed this
morning."

  "Ok,

Okay (Best to spell it out)

ok

  "A few civilians, but not much else. I haven't seen any
cops aside from the grounds keeper.

groundskeeper might actually be one word.

ok

  "Just about all of them, with a few exceptions. The raid was
poorly planned, probably because they didn't even expect us to try
to get away immediately. That bastard Stitch took out a tank on the
way out, too. Was prancin around like he had grown another pair
of balls." Cohen thought for a second and then said, "Yeah.
Probably about five or ten percent losses. Ghast made it with even
less than that."

Wow. That is good since they were the ones ambushed. Makes me wonder if

the

higher ups wanted them to get free and continue to cause havoc.

no, these guys were planning on leaving within a day or two anyway, they
were packed and ready. and one gang boy under Chris is worth a few cops any
day. The trick was getting out before the Shock Troops swund their way

  "Well shit, there was a whole crowd there. But it was dark,
rainy, and there was a lot going on in that place. I was probably
hidden by the explosions, lots of fire everywhere. No one shouted
anything, if that helps. Lost my car, too. I loved that thing."

Fly: Again with the car. I am really sorry I didn't use my last breath to
cap your butt.

hahaha, chris is a little over-frank when hes with the old woman

  "Maybe you will be more careful next time. But forget that.
What about Screw and Mr. Cane?"

  Chris took a breath before saying, "They took em both."

  The old woman's eyes shot up and she frowned. "The deal
was just Screw."

Everyone seems to be attached to Zig. Sides, he forgot to mention the Linn
getting nailed too.

keep reading

  "I know. And I know that there is no easy way to break this
to you, but Linn's mike went dead. I think one of the bastards may
have killed her."

  The old woman stopped, and inclined her head. Linn had
been with her almost since birth, and had been more than like a
daughter. Orphaned many years ago due to her parent's

parents'

oh yeah

worst he had seen in his many-odd years of life. He always told
himself that this time would be the last time, that tomorrow he was
going to fight, by himself if necessary. And now he was. The
Mandate, the cops, Rufius; they would all die. An all-encompassing
sacrifice. Chris had resigned long ago to cleanse life
in the city with their blood.

How noble of him. :)

Nice chapter. Things slowed down a bit. More mystery around Screw as this
one appeared to be mostly a build up chapter. It flowed well and the

grammar

was good. Look forward to getting to more later.

thanks, me too


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