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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 12, 2012 7:08:45 GMT -5
It took her a while to realize that I was not under the desk. I had plenty of time to become springtime fresh. Then I took another look at the old situation.
I was going to die in the bathroom.
Kind of dreky but no worse than some of the other places I could have died in. I had no bolt holes out of this room. Not that it would have done me any good if I had. The wicked slitch of the North would have already sealed it. Besides who wants anyone suddenly popping into your drekker? Right, I didn't have windows either. It was a good sized place with a bed and shower, etc. No minibar though. She'd have to do some work to get in here.
I could hear her moving around outside the door looking to see where I got to. She didn't have to look long. She kicked the door.
I snickered at her yelp of pain. That door was built to withstand a full sized troll. She let go with a full burst. No luck for her there either. She stopped at that point, probably in frustration, at the ricochets. Time was still on my side. The longer I could hold her off the more chance that someone would be able to rescue me.
Then I heard a heavy 'clunk' on the door. I dived into the sunken bathtub. The magnetic explosive she used on the door was certainly effective. All reds and yellows and gray smoke. The door went spinning across the room and wedged itself into the far wall. I put three rounds through the doorway.
The slitch tossed an empty bottle of booze in the room. It was my good stuff. She laughed. "In the tub? You should have climbed into the drekker and flushed."
She sent a grenade sailing towards the tub. Cornered rats think the same way. I sent my grenade back out through the door at the same time. Then I curled up and prayed my dermal armor would hold.
The explosion made everything surreal.
Then I passed out.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 12, 2012 6:43:41 GMT -5
A stapler.
I spit like bacon, I'm made with an egg. I have plenty of backbone, but lack a good leg. I peel layers like onions, yet remain whole. I'm long as a flagpole yet fit in a hole. What am I?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 9, 2012 8:33:45 GMT -5
Well she wasn't completely insane or stupid.
While she was unloading said clip into my desk she had moved over to the bar. The first clip had been full auto. The next would be three round bursts of selective fire. This way she also had access to my booze.
How did I find all that out. When it looked like the clip had emptied I popped up with chip speed and let go a three round burst where she had been. Fat lot of good that did. She wasn't there. The three rounds she sent in return almost got me. I ducked again having seen enough. It was time to leave.
One of the things I had done during the office renovation was to put in a bolt hole. It was a drop hatch that lead to a fast tunnel, dwarf sized that would let me escape. It was under my desk, which was where I normally am so I was in the right place and this was definitely the time.
While the slut was practicing her three round marksmanship. I was hitting the release button under the desk. I was chuckling to myself about the look on her face when she figured out I was pulling my vanishing act. Bugs Bunny had nothing on me.
The fragging thing was jammed. It wouldn't open!
By the way, I found your filed plans for the escape tunnel in the emergency files you sent to Lone Star for security purposes. I hired a dwarf to go in and weld the door shut."
It was like the slut could read my mind.
I was trapped.
She had superior firepower. She had more ammo. She had obviously set things up so I wasn't going to get a rescue anytime soon. She had a serious mad on. The most important point was she had the booze.
I popped out the side and fired a shot. I knew it would do little good. The bar was armored as well. I couldn't put the shield down. I couldn't release the Requiter mini-gun in the ceiling. I couldn't gas the room. In short she had pretty much deactivated all my defenses. I did try them though just in case.
I low crawled from the desk which had taken a pounding and moved to my executive bathroom. Luckily she couldn't see me and I made it easily. I slipped in the door and silently closed and locked it. A least I had a chance to get cleaned up.
She was too busy trying to bounce bullets off the floor in single shot mode so they would go under the desk and rattle around where I was supposed to be. She didn't notice my door closing.
At least I could change into a spare suit and clean the drek out of my pants.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 9, 2012 8:11:20 GMT -5
An Iceberg.
With pointed fangs it sits in wait, With piercing force it doles out fate, Over bloodless victims proclaiming its might, Eternally joining in a single bite What is it?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 8, 2012 9:17:38 GMT -5
Gay Petrabok, then 58, was knocked down by the flying corpse of Julio Corpus, 18, during a rainstorm in Seattle , and in December filed a lawsuit against Corpus's estate for compensation for the various injuries he suffered that day (broken leg, broken wrist, shoulder pain). Julio's corpse was "flying" because he had just been fatally struck by a fast-moving train as he dashed through the storm across several tracks -- while Gay was waiting on a nearby station platform. A judge initially ruled that Gay's injuries were not a "foreseeable" result of Julio's crossing the tracks, but in December, a state appeals court reinstated the lawsuit.
PayPal confirmed to a Toronto Star reporter in January that its refund policy required the shattering of a violin that may well have been a pre-World War II classic easily worth the $2,500 the seller was asking. The buyer had balked after paying, claiming the violin was counterfeit and produced one expert's opinion to that effect, demanding that PayPal refund the money, which it did, provided that the buyer first "destroy" the property.
(According to PayPal, the laws of many countries, including the U.S., prohibit mailing, knowingly, counterfeit goods, and hence, PayPal's could not simply order the violin returned to the sender. The seller, certain that the violin was authentic, was left with neither it nor the money.)
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 8, 2012 9:00:00 GMT -5
I was in my office working this sweet deal of taking over the local ice industry. I can you hear you hoopheads snickering.
Do any of you realize how much ice gets used in this burg every fragging day? Especially in the summer months? Even in the winter the use is truly amazing.
What you think that stuff in your Krass Cola was farking FREE? In the case of a Krass Cola it's the only thing in their that might allow you a reasonable chance of survival as you drink that drek.
The best part is that ice is an easily renewable resource that I can get locally at very little cost. Once I corner the market, everyone's drinks are going to be a couple of NuYen more expensive and I'm going to add about two percentage points to my bottom line.
I'll be laughing on the way to the bank.
Izzy walked through the door. The first thing I noticed was the rifle. Strangely it was my chip that seemed to be supplying the information. I guess when you have class it pays to know a little useless information about the people who want to kill you for having said class. Just before they assassinate you.
An assault rifle is a rifle used for combat where exchange of fire takes place over short distances (i.e. <300m) and is capable of selective fire, which is the ability to switch from single fire to semi automatic or automatic fire. An assault rifle has the following characteristics: a) It must have a butt-stock for firing from the shoulder
Izzy's did. b) Must be capable of selective fire.
Izzy's was. c) Must use a cartridge stronger than that of a pistol but less than one of a battle rifle.
I didn't know it then but I was to find out that it did fulfill that qualification. d) Must have a detachable magazine
I just so happened to notice that it did since she was carrying plenty of spares.
The F1, which was the type she was using, has been the French Army service rifle since the late 1970s, although the updated G2 can be found in the arsenals of the Fusilers Marins and Commandos de la Marine since the mid-1990s. The Philippines, Djibouti, Senegal and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) have bought this assault rifle in limited numbers.
Unfortunately, so had Izzy. Figures she would chose a light weight and high-strung killing machine with a huge fragging rate of fire power. It was a bit ironic that I was about to be shot up and perhaps permanently killed by a weapon, ammunition and an employee all purchased with my own money.
The Gods of the Rime must really have it out for me today.
The FAMAS is a delayed blow-back, select-fire assault rifle that is chambered for the ubiquitous 5.56mm NATO round. The FAMAS F1 and G2 have an overall length of 29.8 inches with a 19-inch (and change) barrel. With an empty magazine, the F1 weighs slightly less than eight pounds (i.e., 7.96 pounds). The F1 uses a FAMAS 25-round magazine.
The muzzle velocity of the F1 is 3,150 feet per second. The F1 is capable of cycling up to 1,000 rounds per minute with an effective range of 984 feet (300 meters). The FAMAS is manufactured In France by the MAS located in Saint Etienne It was designed by Paul Tellie It has an effective range of 300m and a rate of fire of 1000 rounds per minute.
Did I mention twice what it's range and rate of fire was? Probably, because chummer I wasn't no 300 meters away and a thousand rounds a minute at the range I was at, namely thirty feet or less doesn't allow you to miss much no matter how poor a shot you are.
Izzy didn't look like no novice. She had the fragging thing held just right. She smiled a really nasty smile. "Let's not ruin the moment with talk. She stated seductively, "We'll talk later." The all hell broke lose.
I did two things quickly.
I drekked my shorts which is why I have shirt tails.
I ducked behind my armored desk.
Luckily being chipped and she wasn't I was much faster. I made it
The lead rain started instantly sounding like a hailstorm dropping on parked cars.
The drek storm had begun.
I yanked my fancy pistol and fired a shot not even in her direction. Just to hopefully make her cautious. No doubt about it I was outgunned. Maybe I could get a shot when she was changing mags.
Meanwhile, my furniture and office drastically dropped in value.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 8, 2012 8:13:27 GMT -5
Seven Seconds
Lighter than what I am made of, more of me is hidden than is seen.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 7, 2012 8:10:09 GMT -5
It got bad.
Seems Izzy was looking over the logs and spotted what Gobwit had written. Not that he was specific about calling her a drug crazed slut with the morals of an ally cat in heat, but he certainly implied it.
In the old days she probably would have picked up a tonfa and introduced said object to Gobwits head. This is Izzy we are talking about. She has a temper.
The first warning all of us got was when we heard the gunshots and the alarms suddenly going off all over the building. It didn't take us long to locate the source of the disturbance. The firefight was in Gobwit's office.
The first question that crossed our minds was how had the Spiked Trolls gotten this far? Before it was over, we would be wishing it had been Spiked Trolls. It would have been easier to deal with.
Fall and Wanker were the first ones on the scene. She reported that the guards had been gassed with the knockout stuff from the buildings computerized defenses! The floor was sealed off by the heavy doors and the system was active, luckily non-lethal but we weren't going to get in right away.
It appeared that we had a rogue decker in the building. We were half right with that assumption. This definitely elevated the threat from Spiked Trolls to UCAS or possibly Nestles. As for my magical assets? I didn't have any in Gobwit's office where it appeared all the action was. Of course the area was sealed in several ways from magical penetration. I was as blind as the others.
The cameras in there were not working. We could hear the gunshots. One of them was that fancy pistol that Gobwit bought a couple of years ago so we knew he was at least well enough to fire back occasionally. The other sounded like some kind of assault rifle.
So there we were. We couldn't get to the top floor where Gobwits office was because of the decker. The area was sealed and the automated defenses were working. Our Security overrides weren't working. It was about then that we discovered that Izzy was no where to be found and the Security computer that normally traces all of us wasn't responding to any of our codes or overrides. Even Izzy's security team wasn't responding.
Looked to us like Gobwit was going to be dead meat before we could find a way to get to him.
Winter and her team of techs started bypassing the computers to try to find a way in.
This was going to take a while.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 7, 2012 7:48:01 GMT -5
Darkness
The dwarves and Snow White sit down for a bite. How fast can you guess what she serves her guests next?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 6, 2012 8:29:00 GMT -5
GOLD!
The more you have of it, the less you see. What is it?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 5, 2012 8:26:11 GMT -5
Back around to me already?
As usual we have the whiners. I didn't write enough. I wrote the wrong things. I'm cheap. I'm Fat. I'm stupid. I'm a criminal. A cheat. A liar. I didn't bend over far enough, fast enough.
How about a shot of the real?
The bottom line is I'm the one paying for all this. I make the GOLD. It's me that gives them the means to do all those things they think makes them major players in the Seattle landscape.
Instead of treating me like a valued member of the team, they steal my dog. Eat my food. Live in housing I provide. Drive fancy cars. Wear expensive clothes and party on with whatever brain dead hobby they have going at the current time.
Without me where would they be?
Let's explore that idea a moment. Dockery would be up to his elf ears in debt. Who do you think covers his gambling debts and life style? As for his pay? He has borrowed so much in advance of his salary that I probably have a lien on his soul. That's not counting all the research and such that he does. Who keeps his books straight? Who takes all that worry off his big brain?
Good old Pelch, that's who.
Izzy bringing in all that hard NuYen doing Matrix runs. Keeping the cash flow in the green? Protecting the old assets against the electrified electron criminals. Sure, when she farking 'feels' like it.
I pay for her expensive toys. I pay for the large support staff that make it all possible. So what happens when I need something done pronto? Right, I have to follow some computerized procedure, talk to some recorded nonsense, or deal with an out country help desk. Then like as not, I'm considered a low priority and it might get done, a month or year later than I needed it.
I won't even go into her smoking the wacky tobacco and weed, boozing, with long nights out on the town where she has probably serviced more customers than the local McBeasts. I even pay for her contraceptives.
As for the little General? Fall seems to think that a couple of stints in the Desert Wars qualifies her as a leader of whatever. I make a little money off that group but nowhere near what I have to spend to keep it in operation. All for what? They admit it themselves, they can't win against any of the big boys. All they can do is lay down and bleed to death.
So why bother and waste resources on this so called military asset? The only asset that is being the fact it crawls up your hoop and diddles you for the rest of your life. She also stole my dog. How low do you have to be to steal a guys dog?
That makes me the crook? After all, I don't need a bodyguard do I, with Spiked Trolls looking to dust my dork. I'm just the guy that lets her put on her boots and march through Poland.
Then we have ice age girl Winter. Complaining about all the toys she gets to work on. Something that she would be doing anyway if she was on her own, but with a lot less NuYen to buy said items. It isn't even like I'm the one giving her the work but I sure as frag get the blame. Her fragging sister is mostly the one getting that support, then Izzy, then the Doc.
As for the guy that holds it all together and makes their dreams possible. You guessed it, dead last on the consideration and respect list.
If a dwarf speaks in the wilderness without a woman or elf to hear him is he still wrong?
To fragging right according to this bunch of ingrates. If it wasn't for kind hearted Pelch they would still be struggling to pay their back rent in some two bit sleazy dive if they weren't out on the street in the gutter.
For another dose of the obvious? The UCAS has been off my back for three years. Nestle's thinks I've gone away. I could even cut a deal with said groups that keeps them away from me for a frag of a lot less than I'm paying now to cover the lifestyles of these leeches. If I wasn't such a nice guy I would have done that long ago.
So how about a little respect for the founder of the feast?
Ice-holes.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 5, 2012 7:41:11 GMT -5
The Future
I drive men mad For love of me, Easily beaten, Never free.
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 4, 2012 9:15:40 GMT -5
-- Newspapers in Seattle reported in January that two of the UCAS's most heinous murderers apparently fell in love with each other behind the locked doors of their psychiatric institution and, following a 26-day Matrix-chat "courtship," have decided to marry. Mr. Isakin Jonsson ("the Seattle Ghoul") was convicted of killing, decapitating and eating his girlfriend, and Michelle Gustafsson ("the Vampire Woman") was convicted of killing a father of four and drinking his blood. Said the love-struck Jonsson (certainly truthfully), to the newspaper Expressen, "I have never met anyone like (Michelle)." The pair will almost certainly remain locked up forever, but Gustafsson, on the Matrix Facebook, wrote that she hopes they will be released, to live together and "have dogs, pursue our hobbies, piercing and tattoos." It's the hobby part that has me worried.
-- In December, music teacher Kevin Gausepohl, 37, was charged in Tacoma, Wash., Municipal Court with communicating with a minor for immoral purposes, allegedly convincing a 17-year-old female student that she could sing better if she tried it naked. Gausepohl later told an investigator of his excitement about experimenting at the "human participant level" to determine how sexual arousal affects vocal range. The girl complied with "some of" Gausepohl's requests, but finally balked and turned him in.
-- Thinking Outside the Box: Rock Dagenais, 26, pleaded guilty recently to weapons charges after creating a siege by bringing a knife, a sawed-off rifle and 100 rounds of ammunition to a Seattle elementary school. He eventually surrendered peacefully and said he was only trying to send the kids a message not to disrespect each other by bullying.
-- Daniel Whitaker has been hospitalized in Seattle ever since, in November, he drove up the steps of the Pelch Gobwit Memorial Bldg with a gun, gasoline and an American flag, and set the steps on fire. In an interview in December, he told KOMA that he was only trying to get everyone's attention so they would think of Jesus Christ and "love each other."
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 4, 2012 9:04:33 GMT -5
The Letter "E".
I never was, am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will. And yet I am the confidence of all, To live and breath on this terrestrial ball. What am I?
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Post by Pelch Gobwit on Mar 3, 2012 9:54:19 GMT -5
Nothing.
I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?
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