02-15-2021, 06:17 AM
Once the warrior princess indicated she was in, Dave buzzed to the delivery chute with her in tow. From there it was a first class trip inside BB where accommodations were tight at 3.5’ x 5’ but climate controlled. And who didn’t enjoy curling up on the composite floor with their go-bag? It was almost as if the bigger drone had taken offense to past comments and reveled in being the emergency transport. Travel amenities included eau de Papa John’s, windowless non-views and no bothersome safety harnesses. The in flight movie was Trolls, 2016.
Dave adhered himself to an upper corner like a nervous spider and tried for all he was worth to anticipate the strange woman’s mood. His IR cameras monitored Jacinda’s body temperature which was correctly or incorrectly equated with how angry she was. Having been in combat Dave, or really Dave 4.0, knew how vulnerable he was and did not want to get squished...so he periodically triggered BB’s snack dispenser to birth a Twix. There were a lot of Twix on the floor by the time King Grizzle Jr. and Bridget finally got together.
Jacinda wouldn’t know she was 20 minutes from the drop zone when BB turned around. He took a different route back to Moscow. The return show was RED 2.
The drone finally docked on a rooftop delivery chute assigned to a non-existent tenant of Nika’s building. Jacinda would note the descent and lateral routing of her pizza box but nothing jarring. Pizza was precious cargo. Once at rest, the top and side folded away into a loading elevator of sorts and the room was once again sized for standing. Part of the nondescript wall slid to reveal a darkened nerve center akin to the war room of a submarine or possibly the Batcave. There were no windows. Innumerable screens scrolled through data, news from around the world, an old episode of The Animanics played in the corner near a keyboard and a half-solved Rubik's Cube. Shadowed cases of exo and tactical suits, body armor, gear and weapons occupied one long wall. Action figures from G.I. Joe, Star Wars, Dr. Who, Star Trek and other ancient shows or cartoons dotted the room upon closer inspection. A woman stood waiting, stern in manner and expression. Blond hair framed a face as commanding as the black outfit she wore the hell out of. Cool blue eyes surveyed her guest. She was a dead ringer for a character in the movie BB had just played. “You may call me Gillian,” she said in a British accent. “Follow me, there are things you will need.”
A section of the wall lined with guns pushed back and disappeared into the wall, revealing a stairwell that appeared as you stepped and disappeared behind you almost as quickly. The stairs emptied into a large area lit cooly with hidden lighting. The ambiance was futuristic-spacey as if the old American Apple company had built an underground lair on a distant planet. Everything was white, spotless and crisp with alcoves and niches nestled into the smooth glassy walls. It could have been the perfect set on a 26th century space station; open and curvy, there were no obvious corners anywhere. The common area’s flawless milk-white, gloss floor flowed into rooms as they passed. Tatami mats in what was a dojo, a curious black void with dim lighting and a ‘mud room’ that was dark and not telling.
The main armory was through a vault whose seamless circular door parted from the farthest end of the corridor when Gillian neared. The walls were easily twelve feet thick of an unknown material and once inside, the space was nearly as big as what they’d traveled through to get there. It was completely empty which gave the illusion of an infinite white void.
Gillian moved a few paces inside and a pristine rectangle rose from the floor.
Dave adhered himself to an upper corner like a nervous spider and tried for all he was worth to anticipate the strange woman’s mood. His IR cameras monitored Jacinda’s body temperature which was correctly or incorrectly equated with how angry she was. Having been in combat Dave, or really Dave 4.0, knew how vulnerable he was and did not want to get squished...so he periodically triggered BB’s snack dispenser to birth a Twix. There were a lot of Twix on the floor by the time King Grizzle Jr. and Bridget finally got together.
Jacinda wouldn’t know she was 20 minutes from the drop zone when BB turned around. He took a different route back to Moscow. The return show was RED 2.
The drone finally docked on a rooftop delivery chute assigned to a non-existent tenant of Nika’s building. Jacinda would note the descent and lateral routing of her pizza box but nothing jarring. Pizza was precious cargo. Once at rest, the top and side folded away into a loading elevator of sorts and the room was once again sized for standing. Part of the nondescript wall slid to reveal a darkened nerve center akin to the war room of a submarine or possibly the Batcave. There were no windows. Innumerable screens scrolled through data, news from around the world, an old episode of The Animanics played in the corner near a keyboard and a half-solved Rubik's Cube. Shadowed cases of exo and tactical suits, body armor, gear and weapons occupied one long wall. Action figures from G.I. Joe, Star Wars, Dr. Who, Star Trek and other ancient shows or cartoons dotted the room upon closer inspection. A woman stood waiting, stern in manner and expression. Blond hair framed a face as commanding as the black outfit she wore the hell out of. Cool blue eyes surveyed her guest. She was a dead ringer for a character in the movie BB had just played. “You may call me Gillian,” she said in a British accent. “Follow me, there are things you will need.”
A section of the wall lined with guns pushed back and disappeared into the wall, revealing a stairwell that appeared as you stepped and disappeared behind you almost as quickly. The stairs emptied into a large area lit cooly with hidden lighting. The ambiance was futuristic-spacey as if the old American Apple company had built an underground lair on a distant planet. Everything was white, spotless and crisp with alcoves and niches nestled into the smooth glassy walls. It could have been the perfect set on a 26th century space station; open and curvy, there were no obvious corners anywhere. The common area’s flawless milk-white, gloss floor flowed into rooms as they passed. Tatami mats in what was a dojo, a curious black void with dim lighting and a ‘mud room’ that was dark and not telling.
The main armory was through a vault whose seamless circular door parted from the farthest end of the corridor when Gillian neared. The walls were easily twelve feet thick of an unknown material and once inside, the space was nearly as big as what they’d traveled through to get there. It was completely empty which gave the illusion of an infinite white void.
Gillian moved a few paces inside and a pristine rectangle rose from the floor.