Post by Jordanna on Apr 24, 2006 20:08:42 GMT -5
In the shadows of a service-entrance doorway, Jerod Vance leaned one shoulder against the wall, surveying the opposite side of the darkened street.
The area was satisfyingly deserted. At this hour, no one with any good intent would have business in the neighborhood, and there was no passing traffic. It was a quiet night... but it wouldn't be for long.
He casually fished a cigar out of his coat pocket and put it between his lips, then cupped his hand over the end. A miniscule speck of blue-white light flickered from his palm, flaring briefly into flame as it made contact with the tip of the cigar. Having thus lighted it, he took a deep draw, then blew out a cloud of smoke and sighed patiently.
He could rarely afford to indulge in a decent smoke these days, but tonight was an occasion. The warehouse across the street belonged to Nick Tiernan, sheltering an inventory meant for evil--and the Grenadier intended to do something about that little toybox.
A few minutes later, an unwieldy, overburdened figure detached from the shadows of the warehouse and began staggering across the street. Vance stepped into the moonlight with a wave of his cigar, prompting the smaller man to change course toward him.
"How'd it go?" Vance murmured as his confederate approached.
Puffing slightly for breath, Frank "Handy" McCarty set down the empty gasoline cans he was carrying--one in each of his four hands. "S'okay, Jerod. Nobody's around. I doused the place pretty good."
"That's fine." Vance clamped his cigar between his teeth, grinning savagely at his companion. "Here's where it starts, Handy--and we don't stop until the job's done. Now get back into that doorway. This kitchen's gonna get pretty hot once I start cooking."
Handy obeyed, scuttling into the shelter of the doorway. Vance watched him over his shoulder, then turned back to face the adjacent warehouse, rubbing his hands together.
After a moment of collecting himself, the Grenadier spread his hands at his sides, drawing a deep breath. Two glowing, sparking orbs of energy the size of basketballs slowly extruded from his palms, and with a pitch worthy of a pro baseball player, he hurled them simultaneously toward the building. His hands remained outstretched in an effort of concentration that steadied them on their course.
The kinetic grenades sailed majestically across the street--and made contact as dramatically as cruise missiles.
Vance flinched away, shielding his face with his arm, as a massive explosion ripped away half of the building's face. Fiery debris rained down in the street, and within moments even the far ends of the warehouse were ablaze, as flames raced along the trails of gasoline Handy had poured inside.
Turning to admire his handiwork, Vance uttered a hard, triumphant laugh and gave Handy a clap on the shoulder--which became a steadying grip as he swayed suddenly. Handy reached out with all four hands to brace him up, and Vance briefly let the smaller man support him.
"You gave out too much, Jerod," Handy fretted. "You gotta rest."
"It was worth it, though." Vance pushed away from Handy, straightening himself, then turned his head as police sirens began to wail in the distance. "Now let's get outta here."
Gathering the empty gas cans, the two men turned from the flaming wreckage and disappeared into the night.
The area was satisfyingly deserted. At this hour, no one with any good intent would have business in the neighborhood, and there was no passing traffic. It was a quiet night... but it wouldn't be for long.
He casually fished a cigar out of his coat pocket and put it between his lips, then cupped his hand over the end. A miniscule speck of blue-white light flickered from his palm, flaring briefly into flame as it made contact with the tip of the cigar. Having thus lighted it, he took a deep draw, then blew out a cloud of smoke and sighed patiently.
He could rarely afford to indulge in a decent smoke these days, but tonight was an occasion. The warehouse across the street belonged to Nick Tiernan, sheltering an inventory meant for evil--and the Grenadier intended to do something about that little toybox.
A few minutes later, an unwieldy, overburdened figure detached from the shadows of the warehouse and began staggering across the street. Vance stepped into the moonlight with a wave of his cigar, prompting the smaller man to change course toward him.
"How'd it go?" Vance murmured as his confederate approached.
Puffing slightly for breath, Frank "Handy" McCarty set down the empty gasoline cans he was carrying--one in each of his four hands. "S'okay, Jerod. Nobody's around. I doused the place pretty good."
"That's fine." Vance clamped his cigar between his teeth, grinning savagely at his companion. "Here's where it starts, Handy--and we don't stop until the job's done. Now get back into that doorway. This kitchen's gonna get pretty hot once I start cooking."
Handy obeyed, scuttling into the shelter of the doorway. Vance watched him over his shoulder, then turned back to face the adjacent warehouse, rubbing his hands together.
After a moment of collecting himself, the Grenadier spread his hands at his sides, drawing a deep breath. Two glowing, sparking orbs of energy the size of basketballs slowly extruded from his palms, and with a pitch worthy of a pro baseball player, he hurled them simultaneously toward the building. His hands remained outstretched in an effort of concentration that steadied them on their course.
The kinetic grenades sailed majestically across the street--and made contact as dramatically as cruise missiles.
Vance flinched away, shielding his face with his arm, as a massive explosion ripped away half of the building's face. Fiery debris rained down in the street, and within moments even the far ends of the warehouse were ablaze, as flames raced along the trails of gasoline Handy had poured inside.
Turning to admire his handiwork, Vance uttered a hard, triumphant laugh and gave Handy a clap on the shoulder--which became a steadying grip as he swayed suddenly. Handy reached out with all four hands to brace him up, and Vance briefly let the smaller man support him.
"You gave out too much, Jerod," Handy fretted. "You gotta rest."
"It was worth it, though." Vance pushed away from Handy, straightening himself, then turned his head as police sirens began to wail in the distance. "Now let's get outta here."
Gathering the empty gas cans, the two men turned from the flaming wreckage and disappeared into the night.