Operation: Apalachin - Log 8
Sep. 7th, 2022 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_changeling posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsFelicia confronts the man who killed her father but leaves with more questions.
Obviously the intel had been right. The Karnellis had foreign mercenaries on the payroll and had come for him specifically. Hammerhead smiled. He'd been waiting for this kind of confrontation for ages. The politics and social maneuvering made his head hurt but a straight up fight? That was where he truly lived.
His men were making panicked calls as he calmly holstered yet another pistol and picked up the assault rifle he kept in his office for such an occasion. It was time for a counterattack.
She had to keep him here.
Felicia sat in the metal lofted beams of the warehouse, watching his men prowl and shout, leaving Hammerhead alone. There was only one way in or out, a door connected to a set of mashed up stairs, thrown together from metal, reclaimed wood, and low wages, a managers office to oversee his minions. Four walls but no ceiling, and absolutely perfect.
The small explosion under the stairs, sending them down to the concrete below, was muffled both by the general calamity, and Felicia dropping down, knocking down a filing cabinet, blocking any valiant attempts to leave. She smiled, crouched on the bent metal, her claws making a high squeal. "Why hello there. I probably should have just slit your throat from behind but I'm an in a nostalgic mood and kind of want you to see my face before I absolutely annihilate you."
Hammerhead coughed from the dust as he picked himself up. He blinked a few times, clearing his head. "That a fact, girlie? Lotsa people thought that killing Hammerhead was a lot easier than it turned out to be."
“They weren’t me,” Felicia said, undeterred, as a second explosion sounded in th distance, plunging the warehouse into darkness. “And I am very motivated.”
"Yeah, yeah. I'm real scared of some dame in a Halloween costume. Like the man said, talk is cheapish." He said, bullrushing her in the dark, deceptively fast. Hammerhead oozed menace with every fiber of his being and he was intent on hurting her.
Felicia leapt down, low against the concrete and between his shiny shoes, claws out and around his ankles, digging in and through the Achilles. She popped up out of the slide, using the dark to quietly get herself to another perch, goggles lighting up her vision green as she watched him recoil.
He staggered, shifting to protect his injured legs. It had hurt, but he was used to pain. It was an old friend after all. "Guess we do this the hard way.." He said. He couldn't see her, but the space didn't offer a lot of hiding places. His shots were quick, measured, subdividing the dark to try and hit her or to make her move.
Smiling, she timed his movements, ducking under a round just in time to whisper past his left side, pulling the knife he’d tucked along his belt with deft hands to plunge it into his shoulder as she moved. The dark tipped the odds in her favour, but she was otherwise no match for him; Felicia was determined to kept moving, to never give him a chance to tip those odd back.
"Now you starting to make me mad." For a large man, he moved quickly, turning against the blow to slam a fist in her stomach. She rolled with the hit so he couldn't grab her and follow up, but now there was blood in the water for him.
"Starting?" Felicia wheezed quietly, before bounding across the room and quietly hopping up the furniture to return to the top of the walls and slightly behind, some cover if he started blindly shooting around the room. She took her breaths carefully, testing the edge of her ribs and finding it sore but unbroken. He'd begun circling, and she tensed, readying to spring.
"Starting. The fact you have lungs inside means that I'm just starting." He growled and rushed the spot he guessed she was in.
Felicia watched him go by and launched, landing on the small of his back with her knees digging in either side of his waist. Her claws landed on either side of his throat, crisscross, ready. "Babe, I'm already done. Goodnight asshole, say hi to my dad for me."
"Wait!" He hissed, wincing against the pain in his neck, literally. While he wasn't known to value his opponents highly, his life was another matter. "I got answers you might want. Like whether your friend is still alive or..." He said, gambling. "If you are who I think you are, who ordered the hit on your old man. Kill me, you get nothin'."
"His name. Say his name, prove you're not fucking me over, what's the name of my father?" she replied coldly, digging in.
"You're Walt Hardy's kid. I'd say it meant something, but I barely knew him. It was just a job."
Felicia paused, exhaling on the back of his neck. "Careful. One person's job and all that. You have any leads on who hired you, or is this just a pathetic last gasp to get me to care?"
"I know who hired me. But if you want that info, we can talk when I'm far from here." Hammerhead hissed. "I die, that dies with me and let me tell you, girlie, you'll never find that lead on your own."
"Better hope you mean it," Felicia rumbled in his ear, tapping her claws along his neck before she released him, dropping down. "I came to kill you tonight, but next time I'll come to hurt you."
"Yeah, I'd believe you're Walt's kid." He paused, dusting himself off and straightening his tie. "I bet youse be around, so you want the rest of the info, we can make a deal. As a peace offering, if you move quick, your boy I took from Tombstone might not be fully drowned right now. Ciao." He said, clambering his way out.
Obviously the intel had been right. The Karnellis had foreign mercenaries on the payroll and had come for him specifically. Hammerhead smiled. He'd been waiting for this kind of confrontation for ages. The politics and social maneuvering made his head hurt but a straight up fight? That was where he truly lived.
His men were making panicked calls as he calmly holstered yet another pistol and picked up the assault rifle he kept in his office for such an occasion. It was time for a counterattack.
She had to keep him here.
Felicia sat in the metal lofted beams of the warehouse, watching his men prowl and shout, leaving Hammerhead alone. There was only one way in or out, a door connected to a set of mashed up stairs, thrown together from metal, reclaimed wood, and low wages, a managers office to oversee his minions. Four walls but no ceiling, and absolutely perfect.
The small explosion under the stairs, sending them down to the concrete below, was muffled both by the general calamity, and Felicia dropping down, knocking down a filing cabinet, blocking any valiant attempts to leave. She smiled, crouched on the bent metal, her claws making a high squeal. "Why hello there. I probably should have just slit your throat from behind but I'm an in a nostalgic mood and kind of want you to see my face before I absolutely annihilate you."
Hammerhead coughed from the dust as he picked himself up. He blinked a few times, clearing his head. "That a fact, girlie? Lotsa people thought that killing Hammerhead was a lot easier than it turned out to be."
“They weren’t me,” Felicia said, undeterred, as a second explosion sounded in th distance, plunging the warehouse into darkness. “And I am very motivated.”
"Yeah, yeah. I'm real scared of some dame in a Halloween costume. Like the man said, talk is cheapish." He said, bullrushing her in the dark, deceptively fast. Hammerhead oozed menace with every fiber of his being and he was intent on hurting her.
Felicia leapt down, low against the concrete and between his shiny shoes, claws out and around his ankles, digging in and through the Achilles. She popped up out of the slide, using the dark to quietly get herself to another perch, goggles lighting up her vision green as she watched him recoil.
He staggered, shifting to protect his injured legs. It had hurt, but he was used to pain. It was an old friend after all. "Guess we do this the hard way.." He said. He couldn't see her, but the space didn't offer a lot of hiding places. His shots were quick, measured, subdividing the dark to try and hit her or to make her move.
Smiling, she timed his movements, ducking under a round just in time to whisper past his left side, pulling the knife he’d tucked along his belt with deft hands to plunge it into his shoulder as she moved. The dark tipped the odds in her favour, but she was otherwise no match for him; Felicia was determined to kept moving, to never give him a chance to tip those odd back.
"Now you starting to make me mad." For a large man, he moved quickly, turning against the blow to slam a fist in her stomach. She rolled with the hit so he couldn't grab her and follow up, but now there was blood in the water for him.
"Starting?" Felicia wheezed quietly, before bounding across the room and quietly hopping up the furniture to return to the top of the walls and slightly behind, some cover if he started blindly shooting around the room. She took her breaths carefully, testing the edge of her ribs and finding it sore but unbroken. He'd begun circling, and she tensed, readying to spring.
"Starting. The fact you have lungs inside means that I'm just starting." He growled and rushed the spot he guessed she was in.
Felicia watched him go by and launched, landing on the small of his back with her knees digging in either side of his waist. Her claws landed on either side of his throat, crisscross, ready. "Babe, I'm already done. Goodnight asshole, say hi to my dad for me."
"Wait!" He hissed, wincing against the pain in his neck, literally. While he wasn't known to value his opponents highly, his life was another matter. "I got answers you might want. Like whether your friend is still alive or..." He said, gambling. "If you are who I think you are, who ordered the hit on your old man. Kill me, you get nothin'."
"His name. Say his name, prove you're not fucking me over, what's the name of my father?" she replied coldly, digging in.
"You're Walt Hardy's kid. I'd say it meant something, but I barely knew him. It was just a job."
Felicia paused, exhaling on the back of his neck. "Careful. One person's job and all that. You have any leads on who hired you, or is this just a pathetic last gasp to get me to care?"
"I know who hired me. But if you want that info, we can talk when I'm far from here." Hammerhead hissed. "I die, that dies with me and let me tell you, girlie, you'll never find that lead on your own."
"Better hope you mean it," Felicia rumbled in his ear, tapping her claws along his neck before she released him, dropping down. "I came to kill you tonight, but next time I'll come to hurt you."
"Yeah, I'd believe you're Walt's kid." He paused, dusting himself off and straightening his tie. "I bet youse be around, so you want the rest of the info, we can make a deal. As a peace offering, if you move quick, your boy I took from Tombstone might not be fully drowned right now. Ciao." He said, clambering his way out.
