Snippet #889257

The girl started to struggle again and Crip chuckled as she worked the metal farther into her skin. He could feel her blood dripping from his fist now, but she managed to twist far enough to look him in the eye and spout the arrogant drivel he heard from so many newcomers. I guess that's all the time I get. She was feisty, alright, and prideful. But that pride wouldn't last much longer. She may think she's big shit now, but that wouldn't last once she saw what lay on the other side of the tunnel. There was real big shit there that Crip could only hope she'd get to meet first hand.

Although, if Crip played his cards right, maybe he could save some of that spunk. A smart person with the right goals and enough drive to go after them might really do something. He'd already admitted long ago that he'd lost all his fire two years ago when he came to Mars. Only ice had grown in him since. His heart and soul were just too cold to see the possibilities anymore, but maybe, just maybe he could teach someone to do a better job than he was. Maybe his existence wouldn't be a complete waste if he could just do that. Too bad he wouldn't live to see the day.

From barely an inch away, Crip watched a frightening mirth cross the girls face. It took her soft, beautiful features and stretched them into something awful. Her bright blue eyes suddenly seemed out of place on a face bereft of anything soft. By the time Crip felt the heat, she had reached an expression you would only expected to see on a lunatic. Only a madman could be that happy and that furious at the same time. She enjoyed her rage and she enjoyed what it did even more; Crip enjoyed watching it take hold of her. He knew what she was doing before she hissed her warning and before her hand ever caught fire, but his eyes never left hers. Baring his teeth at her, he let the searing pain fuel the passion in his voice to a depth that even he had to admit sounded stark raving mad and hissed back. "You'll thank me in the end when you learn what trash pollutes your mind, Little Girl!"

And then he saw it: the flicker in the corner of his eye. As he instinctively spun to put the girl between him and whatever the movement was, Crip tore his gaze away from her for the first time since locking eyes and glared at Leon instead. Leon had come around beside the ramp to get a clear shot. Unless the bastard had the ability to spontaneously put out raging fires or jump ten feet in the air, the man still couldn't get up the ramp to him till someone took care of the burning light blocking the only path, but he could still shoot from where he was. The facts ran through Crip's head at lightning speed and he knew he was either about to get shot by Leon or Keeley; he couldn't use the girl as a shield against both. Luckily (I guess), he didn't have to wonder which one it would be for very long. He was surprised to see Leon pull the trigger right off the bat, even though the girl was still in the way. If seeing that trigger finger begin to move hadn't made Crip twitch, she would have died right there. Instead, when the bolt hit and all of Crip's muscles tightened at once, the sharp end of the pipe slid across her throat. She might be coughing up blood for a little bit and have a nice scar, but it wasn't deep and that was child's play for any medic. In any case, it was a lot better than the alternative of slicing right through her carotid artery or possibly even hitting her spine. All in all, she was damn lucky.

Crip had watched the cut in slow motion and was so shocked and relieved that she hadn't just died that he forgot his muscles were about to unlock. His knees gave out and he crumpled to the ground, bringing the girl down on top of him. That brought him back to the real world. Of course, the real world wasn't a very pleasant place to be at the time. Not only was his arm still smoldering, but now almost every muscle in his body was cramped, too. That was the most annoying tenancy of those stun riffles. Old stunners would send a continuous charge through the system to incapacitate, but for long range riffles it was just easier to send one big charge that made ever muscle tense to their breaking point so fast that, more than not, each one would cramp or tear.

Crip made a small growl as he painfully forced his hands to let go of the pipes. Then he spoke one last time as he slowly pried his arm away from the girl's chest; she'd probably bruise there too, from how hard he squeezed her during the shock. This time his voice actually sounded kind, as if he had just made a new friend. "I'll see you again soon." and she shoved her off him and teleported away on the spot.

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Crip fell a little farther to the floor in the observation room than he would have preferred. "Oww." he grumbled. For a few seconds, he just laid there, crumpled up on his side, before suddenly swinging into a sitting position and pressing down on both his knees. The pain made him burst into laughter, but he needed to stretch out those cramps and laughing was better than screaming. Anyways, the whole thing was pretty funny. "I got so fucked up!" he managed to moan through the laughter, which made him laugh even harder. It was good. He hadn't done anything so forward in a while and he was proud. The pain was good, too. Crip was no masochistic, but the pain showed how far he was willing to push on toward his goals. It made him feel a little better about himself. Not many things could do that. It also felt more natural a state than any other in a world like this.

"Okay, okay," he goaded himself to his feet again. "one more peek and then off to take care of this arm." Looking at it again was almost mesmerizing. Like a car accident: grotesque, yet fascinating. Blood was dripping though cracks in the black, charcoal hand print that had once been skin. It was a perfect hand print. It reached only halfway around his forearm and as he watched, some of the blood dripped onto the marble floor. "I'll have to wipe that up before I go too." he grumbled some more as he hobbled toward the window. Crip seemed to grumble the most when he was in a good mood. At least he got another laugh when he realized: "At least my right foot doesn't hurt." Nobody would see him if he stood right in front of the window: it was dark in here and really bright out there, so all they would see was a reflexion, but Crip leaned against the wall and peeked around the corner anyways.