Pyrotech Nicked (@ Capacity)

Government statisticians publish clever negations as they might, but the actual numbers were impossible to ignore. Technology was replacing manpower. Jobs were not being created but rather lost. A self-service station was worth five flunkies on the till. The creation of these appliances were industrialised, which is to say 'left to machines', and maintenance work was a dead-end market. There was no room for promotion or growth. Unemployment would trend high. American society was advancing towards a dead-end.

Nowhere was this more noticeable than in the field of larceny and theft. Where once might have been employed five security guards there now idled one solitary night-watchman for a factory district the size of a city block. Plus a second employee known as a 'dispatcher' sat in a monitoring station. Technology would do the rest. Technology never let us down.

"Their technology is down." Pix relayed through his HIVE communicator, "Meet me at the payload." Beside him sat the unconscious dispatcher, intimidated into giving Hugh the access codes. Pillars of pixels stripped from the computer screens lay ready in wait. As the sprite left the office, the swarm broke into flight and followed. Security was his forte. He was far more interested though in understanding his team-mate's forte.

The HIVE member paced down the corridors, over inert motion sensors and shorted beam-alignments. He fell into contemplation. There was much he considered remiss about Angelus Mortis. Her demeanour was predominantly playful, if not goofy. Originally assuming he had given such childish notions up since becoming a super-criminal, he had at first been uneasy in her company, but he gradually fell back into his high-school ways of levity and shirking work. She was good company. But professional?

He gathered that she was some sort of career murderer. An 'assassin' if you will. Yet her mood swings and general disregard for human life, which Hugh deemed excessive even by a hired gun's standards, were troubling. To think he was to trust her. Proper forethought made Pix certain he could not. But in the spur of the moment he would be at ease with her presence.

Slipping underneath a large barn-sized doorway, Pix reformed on the adjacent side and shifted the stubborn bolts. As the door opened a flood of light was released, which Hugh added to by switching on the overhead lamps. It revealed a storage area filled to the brim with fireworks.

"This'll be our Christmas shopping list." He remarked. (^_^)

Up and down the aisles of four tier shelving were box after box after box. Each were known in the industry as 'cartons'. On their side, located inside an orange diamond, was a hazard qualification which Pix paid great attention to. The bigger the better. Both sky and ground rockets. He was half-pushing, half-riding a shopping trolley around, scooping handfuls of cartons inside at a time. This was gonna be one heck of a show TIBERIUS was putting on.

On his third trolley Pix encountered an adjoining room separated by a divider. Here were stored the raw manufacturing supplies. Prising open one lid he discovered the barrel to be filled with black powder. Assuming this to be gunpowder, Hugh manhandled a full container into his cart before observing the rest. There were chemicals for colour, handcrafted shells, and boxes of nothing more than fuses. Pix lifted these fuses with great glee. (=D)

"I'm borrowing a truck."

It was the dead of the night. Save for a flickering light on a lone lamppost in the middle of the street, there was no sign of life or activity. The eerie silence however was soon broken by the distinct sound of footsteps on the cold hard pavement. Rounding the corner and making her way to the factory gate was a figure in a frilly dress. She was very much out of place in that industrial background, easily standing out even in the lack of reliable light. Marleigh was once again out doing an unusual job in the middle of who knows where.

As she approached the entrance, she took out a slip of paper from her pocket, read it and checked it against the worn out sign detailing the location's address. It seemed she at least arrived at the right place. It was rather odd though that there was no one there waiting to greet her and let her inside. Then again it would not be the first time that the job agency failed to properly advise the client of her arrival. She had this nagging suspicion that someone was doing it on purpose. She could still remember the laughs and snickers she got when she first started taking work at the agency. Clearly they did not take her seriously at all.

Undaunted, she turned her attention to the security camera near the gate and enthusiastically waved her hand. There was no one manning the guardhouse by the gate but perhaps the man watching the cameras would notice her and send someone over. She might have arrived at a time when the guard was on patrol and thus not at his post. Minutes passed though, and there remained no sign of anyone coming. She had begun to feel concerned. At the back of her mind, she wondered if there was something amiss or if the guard had simply gone to slack off somewhere. The city's culture was still quite new to her and so she did not want to make baseless assumptions. Still, her instincts told her that she ought to at least be prepared. The worst thing that could happen was the she would get turned away because the agency did not make the proper arrangements. She would have a word with a certain someone when she got back.

Rather than continue idling, she took out a broom from within her satchel and began sweeping the sidewalk in front of the factory. It would be a free service and it would help her relax while waiting. It would certainly make her trip there less of a waste of time at least. She did so at regular human speed cause she went all out, the entire block would likely be done in less than ten minutes.

Ah, night. When nightmares lurk around every corner, and every shadow seemed to hold a dark monster. And yet, for some reason, one teenager thought that this would be the perfect time for a walk. "Man, I really need to come up with better things to do when I can't sleep. Seriously, who just goes out for a walk in the middle of the night?" Ace wondered as he glanced at the buildings around him. Everything seemed to be what you would expect in the middle of the night, except...

Wait a second. I've seen that camera before. That's supposed to have a red light and move when you walk by it. So, what's going on here...? he thought as he passed by the loading bay of a fireworks storehouse. He walked towards one of the loading doors that an employee seemed to have closed in a hurry, as there was just enough space for him to duck under. "Now, let's see what's going on here..." he muttered, walking down one of the hallways.

The keys were on a hook against a wooden board, labelled with sticky notes via license plate. Inside the loading bay Pix switched on and off a half-dozen switches before finding one that controlled the lights. He imagined the others must have been trip switches of some kind or for the automated loading ramp. In short order he had located his vehicle and fired up the engine. Manoeuvring a truck was a daunting prospect, but Hugh had a Drivers Ed learning behind him like most youngsters his age. With an assurance which comes from inexperience he wrote off the task as trifling.

Turning off its ignition, the sprite now left the bay. Angelus Mortis still hadn't shown up. She wasn't the most punctual of sorts. Probably expected Hugh to do all the heavy lifting. She better than anyone ought to know that chivalry was dead. Quinn had most likely been the one to reply to the contract out on it.

Honestly. We come to get fireworks and that still isn't enough to hold her interest. The hallways were silent except for a ticking wall-clock. Pix imagined he'd find Quinn in the monitor room watching him remotely. Only on arrival did he remember that his pixel pilfering had made that impossible. Fortunately he did find a sign of her presence.

Tossed aside and trampled was a Christmas reef which had formerly been hung upon the door. In its place, over a nail, was Angelus Mortis' ring blade. Very festive. If the weapon hadn't been so decorative Hugh would have been worried in its discovery. No, his team member was fine. But if she failed to return he was going to drive off and take sole credit on this job.

Pix took down the unusual weapon and began to jink it around his wrists like a hoopla. His voice took on a mocking tone, chipper and shrill, "Look at me! I'm Angelus Mortis. Don't have to work because I'm a total TIBERIUS suck-up. Whoops - bit me own tongue. Poisoned myself again!" At least her ring blade was cool. Pix decided he would borrow it without asking. Maybe amuse himself with a game of hoops.

As he began to walk back to the storage section, Pix drew his HIVE communicator, "Angelus, you're a tool. Acknowledge. Also, where are you? Over." The message would relay to her ear-piece.

It took a while, but finally someone had arrived to see her. Marleigh's patience was soon going to be rewarded... or so she thought. Rather than a warm welcome, she was met with questioning coupled with the obvious intention of turning her away. But she was not in the wrong. She was positive of that fact. At the very least, she would not leave without attempting to clear things up. The guard looked like a reasonable enough fellow.

"Good evening. I was sent by the job agency downtown to do some tidying up. It might sound unusual I know, but the arrangements were made earlier in the evening. I believe the office was in contact with a Mr. Darsh? If you could call him over, we could confirm and sort this out."

She took out the job form from her pocket and presented it along with an ID.

"If Mr. Darsh isn't around, you could also call the agency to check. The number's here on the form."

"I don't mind waiting out here, but the person from the agency might want to speak to me. If possible, I'd also like to use the phone in your office as well."

Marleigh hoped that the guard was as friendly as she looked. She had already wasted enough time that night. If there was any misunderstanding, she wanted to fix it as quickly as possible.

As she awaited the guard's reply, she noticed that the girl in the uniform looked rather young, possibly no older than herself. Her physical appearance anyway. She wondered if it was common for the youths in this city to have jobs like this.

Not long after Ace had started down the hallway, he heard the sound of large engine starting, followed by the stereotypical sound of a truck backing up. They must be at the loading bay...which is exactly where I came from. Guess I chose the wrong direction. he thought as he headed back towards the loading bay. Upon arrival, he saw that one of the trucks was indeed backing up towards the bay, which was now lit up. Terrific. Now what? There's no place to hide in...wait a second... A cardboard box in the corner grabbed his attention. Running over, he crouched down and pulled the cardboard box over himself. This will totally work...I saw it in a video game. He watched from a small slit in the box as the apparent thief left the bay and started down another hallway.

Wow. I can't believe that actually worked. So, let's see what our friends is up to here. Ace removed the box and started down the same hallway he had seen the guy heading down, which appeared to lead to a security room. Peeking inside, he saw the guy playing with a weird ring-shaped weapon. When he turned back toward the door, Ace bolted behind another wall and watched as he headed back down the hallway. Lucky for me he didn't come this way. Ace thought as he quietly followed the thief, hoping that he wouldn't turn around.

The response was overly formal, devoid of any retaliation against the snipe he had made. It gave Hugh momentary pause. You could be forgiven for thinking the girl professional on such a reply. The same girl who killed on reflex and was currently shirking her duties under the vague excuse of being 'indisposed'. Pix scratched his head at the ambiguousness of it all. Double doors parted as he made entrance into the facility's supply wing.

"The situation. Of course, the situation. Say no more, the situation. Over." His thumb left the transmit button momentarily. In that time Pix simulated taking a deep breath. It didn't do to keep him in the dark. Underlings were on a need-to-know basis, partners weren't. He resumed transmission, "WHAT SITUATION?" Always puerile in his indignation, the sprite was famailiar to passive-aggression and acts of sarcasm. It rarely solicited the best response but it was a failing he had yet to grow out of. Part of his father's success came from the ability to suppress this family urge to ball and shriek and scream at the incompetence surrounding them. The son, Hugh, just unleashed exasperation in its ugliest form. At this age he lacked the inner insight to overcome the flaw.

Marleigh listened intently to the guard's explanation. As she briefly described the situation, she found that the guard's concern of having her return at a later time for her safety was totally warranted. Assuming she was just an ordinary cleaning lady... which she wasn't. She thought about that and concluded that she would wait until she had a better grasp of what was going on before offering her other services.

"That definitely sounds dangerous. But my devotion to my work shall not be daunted by mere common thugs. The last thing I really want is to leave without having accomplished anything. So if it isn't too imposing, I would like to stay."

The guard received a call which she took. While Marleigh could not hear what the caller called about, she could not help but take notice of the guard's choice of words. Dealing with a situation? The only thing the guard was dealing with at the moment was her. She was a situation? It was funny because just moments ago, her presence was not that big a deal and that a compromise was willing to be made. She had to wonder if there was something the guard was not telling her.

"It seems like you are needed elsewhere. I'm not so incapable that I would need you to be watching over me at all times. Just show me where I should start working and I'll be fine."

Ace followed the thief through a set of double doors, holding back for a moment as his target seemed to be talking to himself. Taking a quick moment to look around, Ace saw that they appeared to be in a storage room, with large shelving throughout the room holding boxes with warning labels on them. He also noticed a large cart near them with a large amount of boxes similar to the ones on the shelves. Guess that's what he's stealing. I suppose those would make for quite the explosion.

Ace's attention was brought back to the guy when he yelled, seeming at himself. Doesn't seem likely. Perhaps he has other helpers around, in which case I should wrap up here before anyone else comes along. Sliding open the red deck of cards, Ace levitated three of them out and shot them one at a time towards the thief, each reaching about 25 miles per hour. "I don't know what situation you're talking about, but it can't be much worse than the one you're in right now."

This time the answer was a little more clipped. It sounded as if Angelus was under pressure from someone else. Pix lacked the imagination to envision exactly what she was doing. All he knew was that her reply left him no more enlightened than before. Hugh felt tempted to continue improving things by introducing yet more snide remarks, but resisted the urge. Instead he tsked and put a hand upon a loaded cart. One of them might as well get this theft finished.

A fast flying bladed instrument sunk into his hand. What appeared to be a playing card had embedded itself into the handrail, severing two fingers as Hugh withdrew his arm. In shock, the sprite rounded on his assailant (0_0). How long had he been standing there? And what was he doing trespassing on private property? Doesn't anybody have respect for the rules nowadays?

Their brief dialogue suggested that the valiant intruder would try and oppose Pix. Damned heroic interludes. Deep down everyone was selfish. If only these heroes could learn to embrace that, then people would get along just fine. The pixels which made up Pix's fingers automatically reassembled themselves in the right place. Fortunately the sprite was practically immune to sharp objects. No matter how sharp, the cards could draw no blood, even if they hit dead on.

"Ha. I'm metahuman you idiot, ow, it's going to take a lot more than cards to, ouch, hey! Quit it!" Hugh took shelter behind a trolley, packed to the brim with soon-to-be stolen goods. Two more cards now stuck out of his torso. He hadn't signed on to be a pin cushion, "I'll give you till the count of three!" He shouted, "And then I warn you, I'm calling backup. She'll make you sorry you messed with me!" That ought to get him quaking in his boots.