The Blog Propellant · writing

TBP’s On-line Writer’s Guild #15

TBP’s On-line Writer’s Guild #15

  1. she loved storms
  2. Oh no, not again!
  3. Just like Ricky

Blanche crouched low on the balcony of unit 402, number 57 rue du Ormond. She glanced at the silenced 7.62×51mm M40 that she had assembled and readied. The rifle was her favourite and she was looking forward to using it on this job. That is, if she were allowed to complete this job; if Ricky didn’t have the same assignment. She knew that her minders would often assign the same targets to them both. Lately, Ricky had been getting there first.

Today would be different. Today she had a view of the embassy building where the motorcade was to begin. The ambassador would be getting in his car there. If luck were on her side she might be able to finish the job before he even got in the vehicle. If there was no shot while he was in the open, she knew that the limo would be coming up the avenue. She would have several hundred meters and she would be able to sight on him through the windscreen. An easy second opportunity. The day was cool and cloudy. There would be no glare on the glass and Ricky had to be further down the parade route. This would be her kill, she knew it.

She heard a noise from the balcony below. The sound of the doors opening and shutting, she froze and listened. Whoever was below was quiet, but she picked up the unmistakable sounds of a sniper rifle being assembled. Oh no, not again; that would be Ricky. It couldn’t be anyone else. Ricky used the AI Arctic Warfare Super Magnum and he would be putting it together right now, on the balcony right below her.

“That you Ricky?” she asked in a stage whisper.

“Hullo Blanche,” she heard in reply.

“You gotta go somewhere else Ricky,” she went on, “this is my nest. Go find your own.”

“I don’t think so, Blanche. I quite like it here. You should move.”

“No way Ricky, I was here first.”

There was silence from below. Blanche listened. She wanted to pick up the sounds of him leaving but she heard nothing.

“Still there, Blanche?” he finally asked.

“Still here,” she said, “I’m waiting for you to leave.”

“That’s not going to happen. There’s a storm brewing. No wind but rain is pretty much assured. The only other viable vantage point for this would be the park. The park’s fu’ther down the parade route and would leave me unprotected from the storm. I’d get all wet”

“I love storms.” Was all she said.

“Let’s do this one together, Blanche, shall we? You know, in unison, on the count of three, all that. They’d have to pay us both then.”

She was quiet as she considered his proposal. It was just like Ricky to come up with an idea like this, but she might be able to use it to her advantage.

“All right, Ricky,” she said to the balcony down below her. “I’m game.” She looked at her watch. “I expect the ambassador to show within the next few minutes. You count and we’ll do it on three.”

“Right.” He said.

They both went quiet then. Blanche was peering through her scope, breathing slowly. She had the butt of her gun pressed against her shoulder. She knew Ricky was doing the same thing and when the activity picked up at the embassy building; she knew the ambassador was about to come out to his limo. She held her breath.

First man out of the door was a bodyguard, she watched him scan the embassy grounds and then signal back inside. Blanche began a long slow exhale.

“Ready, Blanche?” Ricky asked as the ambassador came out from the building.

He started counting, “One… Two…”

Both rifles fired simultaneously pffht. The ambassador went down.

Blanche began disassembling her piece preparing to go.

“Ricky, you prick, you cheated.”

“Only because I knew you would.” He replied.


Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Daily Prompt; Orderly

Daily Prompt; Orderly

Marco pushed the wheeled cart between the rows of cages. He didn’t have to announce that he was coming, the squeaky wheel on his cart allowed the inmates to hear him coming from the end of the cell block. He paused outside one of the first barred doors.

“Artie, your book is due. You need to give it back today.”

“I wanna renew it, Marco? I ain’t done with it.”

Marco sighed and pulled out the green cloth covered ledger that he used to record the ins and outs of the library books. He studied it for awhile and finally said, “You know you’re only allowed two renewals. This’ll be your second one. I can let you keep it for another week, but you’ll have to give it back next time.” He held out his hand, “Give it up, man. I need to stamp the card.”

“Pinche Orderly.” Arte spat as he picked up the book with his island sized paw and pushed it between the bars.

Marco kept his eyes on the death’s head tattoo that decorated the back of Arturo’s hand. He stayed back from the bars, and reached carefully for the book. Artie had been known to lash out, in the past and the little orderly wanted to be careful. He opened the front cover, pulled the card and picked up his stamp. He checked the date was right and bounced the business end off the ink pad then onto the next line of the card, careful to position the mark properly. He blew on the damp purple ink to dry it before inserting the card back into the sleeve that was glued to the inside front cover.

He noticed the title as he handed it back to Arturo, “Ornamental Horticulture”. The deaths head tattoo seemed to grin as the convicted man took back the volume.

Reading and fighting were the only two sources of entertainment inside these walls. Marco was glad that Artie had chosen reading, for the most part.