She had a gun on me. The sizzling barrel of the pistol touched my cheek. I screamed.
"Why were you ducking me?"
Her eyes, sparkled deep blue in the ocean of the ineyeness, examining me relentlessly.
"I deeply apologize..."
She didn't let me finish and snapped.
"Instead of keeping up appearances you better apply yourself next time, motherfucker!"
After the Foray everybody took pills. Folks on the outside knew it would help with nausea and headaches. We were so adamant about taking the medicine that nobody, nobody foresaw the consequences of the Pill-Pillagery. People were like that because nothing in the whole world would compare to Zonkevity. The pure sensation of flesh withdrawing cultivation after the med. It was like a plant you grew in your heart, bursting through with every beat of your suffocating half dead brain cells shriek.
"Are you going to kill me?"
I asked her quietly.
"I have yet to make that decision..."
Somebody called the hijackeress on the phone. One of her eyes turned colors.
"Ye, goes by the name of Ricardo Penillina. Got him today with the rest of his crew...okay. Got it, boss".
She stepped away, murmuring something into her cheekbone mic. The police had arrived at the scene couple of moments ago before the sandstorm cloudy mess hit The Outskirts. Bulky, like some elephant-like creatures, their Movers plopped down quietly shutting off their zinging motors. Escort lights flashed up on the edges of one of them. The giant doors whooshed, clanged and downwards disembarked one of the officers. Chubby, insolent and "crunchy" [crunchiness is a type of bone sickness caused by Pill-Pillagery absorbtion, which is basically an "overemphatic" drug use]. He examined the crime scene incredulously.
The cop coughed up:
"What a shit show..."
Out, half-smoked "byichok" spat through the slid in the helmet. The chewfag touched down with a hissing sound.
The leader of the Hijackers waved, inviting the dirty cop to come closer.
"You've always come across like laymen and I had to make a judgment call, inviting cops to the scene but this whole situation was a wake-up call for us".
He came up to me. The hijackeress reached into her pocket and took out a Sling.
"Wait, wait. Let's get this straight...are you trying to reattach him right now?"
The cop's hesitant motion was stopped by my captor.
"This...is not at issue right now, I wanna show you something..."
All that time I was waiting patiently. Waiting for her to fuck up. And I when the opportunity presented itself, I was ready. Right at the moment when one of the Sling's strings touched the top of my head, I reattached myself to the Ineyeness and Unrolled, Developed, and Maximized.
The UDM mightily shook the ground under the feet of the mob and I contentedly heard the popping sound. It was the sound of burned away circuitry and fractured bones. There, through the screams, haze and writhing of dismembered bodies, I made my way to one of the po-po Movers.
The skyaccessible vehicle was damaged by the slingweaveal. Its central console fizzed, choking on the puffy, rounded amalgamation of smoke, fire, and barely visible strings of charred wires that reminded me of witch claws. I went to the back of the mover and extracted from the mess I caused a backup method of transportation. It was a tarnished hundred years old "Goat", a police getaway without jump-cushions. The bicycle was capable of traversing the ground at crazy speeds beating any of the slow-to-overtake wheelowers.
I put on the helmet and activated the brake-park mechanisms. I was saved.