The Revenge Job

>“YOU SCREWED ME!” an angry voice shouts into your ear as soon as you pick up your phone.
>Thankfully he was loud enough, otherwise you wouldn’t have heard him.
“H-Hold on,” you tell Flam as you increase the volume of your phone. “Hmm, yes?”
>“Where are my designs, Sparkle?! Where are they?”
“I- I saw them go out.” you mumble.
>Just like the day before Flam woke you up.
>After you’ve been done squishing your taxi to a small cube at the dump, you fell asleep in the back of your van again.
>“They never got to me!”
“Well, then your hacker screwed you.” You sigh, “Or the hitter or cat burglar, all of them had the duffle-bag at some point, they could have all switched it. They are criminals, why did you trust them?”
>“That’s why I had you, Sparkle! One honest person to keep them in check.”
>This does give you a sting.
>You wanted to have nothing to do with them ever again.
“Okay, okay, I... I’m going to find out who of them took it okay?”
>“I want you to meet me in an hour. There’s an old workshop floor of my company outside of town, I’ll text you the address. Be there!”
>He hangs up without a goodbye.
>Asshole.
>You put the phone away and look around your van once more.
>The unique mix of scents soothes you.
>What your hearing is bad at the moment, your nose is in overdrive.
>You could easily smell your way throughout the vehicle, filter out any one of them and tell with closed eyes and without moving where every scented candle, empty phial, and piece of clothing is.
>The job yesterday kinda forced you to get clean and wash all your clothes, because it required social interactions in the hotel.
>And later the night you had to get rid of everything, including the set of clothing.
>Needless to say you’re now donning something quite new, even though you, once again, slept in your clothing.
>Your senses are quite alright, you’d say.
>Decreased hearing and increased smell.
>Hmm...
>You hold out your hand before you.
>No shaking either.
>You’re in good condition to drive.
>Better than yesterday where your vision had been messed up.
>While you’re fond of your van it’s still tagged.
>You step out and move to the VW golf one of the other getaway vehicles you’ve had prepared.
>It hadn’t been used, and you saw no reason to get rid of it, now it even comes in handy.
>You move through the almost abandoned fabrication hall past motionless machinery.
>The pungent smells of metal dust, burnt plastic, bleach and ammonia were assaulting your nose.
>Somewhere someone’s talking, but you can’t make our who it is or what they were saying.
>It wasn’t easy to locate them, but soon your eyes fall on Rarity and Applejack.
>Applejack looks pretty relaxed, hands at her hips in a sassy stance with a cowboy hat on top.
>Rarity however, she had a revolver pointed at the Applejack.
>Your mind manages to click into gear and tell you that Rarity has had little to no training with a revolver.
>Snub nose .22 caliber.
>Applejack knows that too, and therefore she wasn’t afraid.
>Then again, an untrained person is more dangerous than a trained one.
>However, you have to wonder if .22 wouldn’t bounce right off the cowgirl.
>Is she just strong or durable too?
“Hey!”, you call towards them.
>Rarity immediately spins around to point her revolver at you.
>While Applejack’s bullet-proofness was in question, yours certainly was not.
“Not armed.”, you tell her and raise your hands to show them to be empty.
>“Didya do it?” Applejack asks.
>Before you can ask what she means Rarity accuses you as well, “The files. You had a setup in that taxi of yours and threw us out before I could take a look at it. Did you-”
“No. What? I didn’t swipe them.”
>“Yer the only one’s ever play’d both sides.”
>As Applejack moves Rarity immediately deems her to be the bigger threat and aims her revolver again.
“And you seem pretty relaxed with a revolver pointed at you,” you state and take the opportunity to approach them again.
>“Ah’m not worried, safety’s on.”
>Rarity wavers for a second but doesn’t move her eyes off Applejack.
“As if she’s gonna fall for that. Rarity here-”, you shake your head at Applejack and gesture towards Rarity, “She’s actually a very smart- Oh wow, no. Safety IS on.”
>The moment it takes her to check the revolver you launch for it and remove it from her grasp.
>“Seriously?”, she asks as you unload the bullets from the cylinder, before repeating herself a little louder, “Seriously?!”
“Are you armed?”, you ask in direction of Applejack.
>She shrugs, “don’t have the need”, and you don’t doubt her words for a second.
>You hand Rarity back her gun and she makes no move to pick up the discarded bullets from the floor.
>“Don’t need one either, doesn’t mean I’m not angry!”
>A blob of pink drops down from the ceiling and lands next to you.
>“My money is not in my account, and I’ve already promised it to someone in return for a lot of candy.”
“You bought candy for half a million dollars?”
>“No, I don’t have it, which makes Pinkie unhappy in her tummy.”
>Is she talking about herself in third person or about someone else?
>Either way you don’t want to think about candy with that stench of ammonia around.
>And the other smells...
>Some things you couldn’t put your finger on earlier.
“So non of us got paid? And-”, you chuckle, “-none of us know what happened to the files?”
>Last piece of the puzzle pops into place.
“And he’s got us all here in one place to-”
>Ammonia and – the other key ingredient – nitroglycerin.
>You laugh.
“-to tell us we’re... Not. Getting. Paid,” you empathize.
>And slowly but surely realization strikes them as well.
>“Why- why are you laughing?”
“Because of the smell of dynamite.”
>You never thought about death, not really.
>You’ve had some bad times behind you, sure, and your life is pretty miserable.
>Suicide, however? No, you’re not going the bitch way to die.
>Getting ripped to pieces in an explosion however?
>Now that was a way to go.
>You close your eyes and spread your arms up, oblivious to the others running away from the scene.

>You jerk awake.
>The first thing that comes abundantly clear to you was the roaring pain originating in your head.
>Why does it always have to be the head?
>You try to lift your hand to it to rub your temples but find your right hand bound.
>A few seconds later as your mind wraps around what was going on you recognize the new bracelet of yours as a set of handcuffs.
>You’re cuffed to a bed.
>A hospital bed.
>Looking around the room further you can see Applejack in another bed.
>“Yer awake”, she simply states, “Have ya had like a death wish or somethin’?”
>That’s right…
>The explosion.
>You didn’t run, but…
>You don’t remember.
>It smells burnt, so…
>Not just your head is revolting, but now your stomach too.
>“Ah grabbed ya. Sorry ta ruin yer-”
>You lean over the side of the bed and empty the contents of your stomach.
>“-plans…”
>You’ve not eaten since… you don’t remember.
>All that came out was stomach acid, burning your throat.
>Still, the bad state your body’s in thinks it was poisoned, and the best way to cure itself was to empty its contents.
>You go through the jerking motions.
>Your body still convulsing, even though there was not more to give.
>“Local cops responded to the explosion,” Applejack further explains, “We’re in a small hospital on the outskirts of town.”
>After the spasms die down you wipe your mouth and look up to her again.
>“They are small time cops, I can take them.”
“Do they… know who we are?”, you manage to press out.
>“Look at yer hand.”
>What?
>You investigate your hand to see the fingertips black.
>Ink.
“How long ago…?”
>“What’dya mean?”
“When have our prints been taken?”, you elaborate as you lean back into the bed.
>“Uhhh… like ten- fifteen minutes ago.”
“Gnnn…”, your head is killing you, “Depending on their system they’ll have sent it off by now, but none of us are wanted in Canada, they’d have to tap Interpol, the FBI, or the seized servers of S.H.I.E.L.D., which I don’t believe they do… FBI most likely if nothing local is found.”
>You look around and press your call-nurse button as soon as you find it.
“They’ll expect a phone call, so we’ll give them one… I need you to pickpocket a phone.”
>“What? Ah can’t- that’s not exactly in my repertoire.”
“You’ll manage…”, you assure her and scoot forward on your bed to look at the door more properly. “And ask if the others are secured… and distance yourself from them verbally.”
>“But I-”, she was silenced as the door opens.
>A nurse and a police officer come inside, the officer having been the one who stood guard outside your room.
>Standard b-cop, slightly pudgy.
>Terrifying.
>Applejack would have troubles against him…
>Why is she still here?
>“You’ve called, dear- Oh!”, the nurse spots your produce, “I’ll get a doctor immediately, don’t you worry.”
>A few minutes later a doctor has come, shined, much to your pain, directly into your eyes to test your pupil reaction, and tells you the nausea might have come from a concussion.
>Concussion would explain why your memory set out leading up to the injury.
>Applejacks phrasing also threw the officer off guard and he confirms Ponk and Rarity to be secured in the next room.
>Moron! You don’t tell potential criminals where there accomplices are!
>Why is everyone so stupid?
>After you’re left alone again you pull out the phone you picked off the doctor yourself.
>“Ah thought ah was to steal one,” Applejack shows you her bounty.
“We need two...”, you don’t explain further, “You’re only cuffed to a chair- climb up to that vent and attempt to call for Rose. If she doesn’t respond, try the other side. White needs to unlock these phones.”
>“Uhu…”, she nods slowly and simply obeys, “What’s yer plan?”
“They expect a phone call, so we’ll give them one,” you lean back into your bed once more, “GPS, find out where we are, get the hospitals phone and fax number, take a photo of you, rig a classified document to say you’re an undercover agent. Call them and change our voices, pretending to be FBI. Get a vehicle, and get us out of here.”
>You close your eyes and almost drift off.
>“Yer expecting this to work?”
“Mhm”, you confirm.
>You hear rattling from the vent.
>Ponk?
>Probably.
>“Ya have one hell of a noggin if you can come up with that while totally out of it.”

>Actually…
>You’re not feeling half bad
>Besides the pain, that is.
>Your senses seem… normal
>Or are they?
>Just as you think that you start to get tinnitus, drowning out all other sounds around you.
>Once more you try to rub your temples, only to have your hand be held back painfully by the cuffs.
>This time, however, you need the stimulation
This time you lean down not only use your left hand but also lean down so you can rub yourself at both sides of the head.
>“Yer gonna throw up again?”, you hear a faint voice from somewhere
>You’re not sure what she’s saying, but judging from her expression she was just concerned.
“I’m fine.”
>You’re far from fine.
>But you have to break out of police custody.
>You don’t know on which databases your fingerprints can be found.
>However, right now there is nothing that can be pinned on you, is there?
>Surviving an explosion is not illegal.
>Escaping police custody is.
>Unless you can claim you were being taken hostage by them…
“Phone!”, you call out, maybe a little bit too loudly, “Is it unlocked?”
>Applejack turns to the vent again from where you see something small be dropped down out of the corner of your eyes.
>A second later she threw the phone over onto your bed.
>New text message.
>[it’s me, darling]
>Good, that’s good.
“Applejack, I need an ID-photo of you. Take these linen and create a small background for your photoshoot, hang them onto the bed railing.”
>“On the bed railing? Then ah have ta kneel for yer photo.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”, you simply say as you text Rarity back.
[Create faux Interpol ID o/ undercover agent. Red’s photo inc. Search this hospitals fax number]
>As you look up the hospitals landline yourself you further instruct Applejack.
“How are your accents? You’re going to be a police chief in Toronto, the fingerprints they sent triggered some alarms.”
>Rarity texts you back with a simple [k, whats ur plan?], but you continue with AJ.
“You have someone from Interpol on hold, then hand me the phone back.”
>“Yer serious with that plan?”
“Yes. Now, on your knees.”
>She looks quite pissed as she does go down.
“Neutral expression, further to the sheet.”
>She scoots back and you follow her forward as far as your handcuffs allow it, and you snap that photo of hers.
“French canadian accent, Applejack, can you do that?”
>“I- think so. I’ll manage,” she gives you a smile and adds, “eh?”
“Not funny,” you shake your head as you send Rarity the image.
[Give the fax a nice classified banner, and tell me when it goes out.]
>“So… for claimin’ ta be a good honest person, ya sure know the con.”
>Your eyes twitch.
“I’m not a criminal. I know how they think and how they operate. I chase them- or at least I did.”
>Applejack takes down her impromptu photoset.
>“Ya liked the chase?”
“What kind of question is that?”
>“The kind of question that’s gonna let me get ta know ya.”
>Please don’t.
>You try to ignore her question and go over the cellphone again, doing your own bit of computer wizardry and look up names of the police officers of the local stations.
>Then you receive the text from Rarity and you dial the hospital.
“You know your lines?”, you throw Applejack the phone.
>”Eh,” she shrugs and takes the phone to her head.
“Hilarious.”
>Sarcasm was your only salvation
>”Can ya just tell me again why ya think it’ll work?”
“The trick is to answer the question they have been asking”, you lift your hand and show her the residual ink where they took your prints, “Who are we.”
>Your explanation gets cut short by another text from Rarity, [fax is out]
“Seems like it’s showtime.” you dial and throw her the phone. “You’re detective lieutenant Curtis.”
>”I- ah, right now? Shi-“, she stops her curse as the connection is made.
>You faintly hear a nurse on the phone greeting as is standard of the hospital.
>”This is detective lieutenant Curtis, I’m aware you have some police officers guarding some suspects in your hospital right now, would you mind connecting me?” She covers the phone after and mouths to you how unhappy she was with you just throwing the phone to her.
>A few seconds later she introduces herself to a policeman as well and continues, “Yeah, we got the prints you’ve sent us- problem is, it triggered some red flags with Interpol of all things, and- that woman there, she didn’t tell me anything about some classified stuff- I’m gonna connect you to her, okay?”
>Waiting for his go ahead she throws you the phone back.
”Deputy, yes? This is department director Heartstrings. Is our girl alright?”
>“I’m sorry, I don’t follow-”
“Deputy, listen to me. One of the women inside- she’s ours actually, she has been in deep cover.”
>“Seriously?”
“That is correct. Now you should be receiving a fax any minute now confirming these information… But what I’m telling you here is classified. I need to know that I can trust you.”
>“I-”
“Deputy, I can trust you, can’t I?”
>“Y-Yes, ma’am!”

>”Gentleman, it fills my hearts with tears of joy at what you guys do.” Applejack salutes the two police officers after they hand her the keys to their car, “You’re protecting the everyday people of our world, you’re the salt of the earth.”
>They slightly overdo it when they salute back to her.
>All three of them stay in salute for a moment while, Rarity, the Ponk and you are cuffed in the back of the car.
>Eventually they stop, Applejack steps inside and starts the car.
>Just like the day before, neither of you speak a word for a while.
>”I’m going to beat that Flam guy up so bad,” she throws back the keys for the cuffs, “he tried to kill us.
>”And more importantly, I can’t buy any candy.”
>”HOW is that more important!?”
>”If I were dead I wouldn’t need any candy!”
>They start to fight, but you feel your senses fading again.
>The noise becomes a blur as your adrenaline level decreases until it was only one high pitched beep of tinnitus.
>The smells in the car were burning into your nose..
>Donut frosting, how cliche. And lot’s of bleach, they must have had to clean the car often. Then there were the smells you dragged in. Ink, most prevalent.
>You need to close your eyes, but even then you can see the faint color of your eyelids as light is penetrating them.
“Shut up! I need to get to my van.”
>”Were you even listening?” Rarity snaps you back into reality. “First class tickets to anywhere and you want to your van?”
“I need some... medication.”
>That was not even a lie.
>You need to get your fix to kill withdrawal, before you get withdrawal from that…
>”There’s a pharmacy at the airport, we-”
“No!”, you are not shouting, but your voice is firm, “I’m not running.”
>As you scroll through the news the break in at Alpha Flight was one of the top stories.
“They lost research they’ve been working on for more than a decade…”
>”Probably a cover story”, Rarity would be right, but-
“Logs, this deep in the code?”, you comment as you read through some of the published files, “No. You gave them a nice virus, but they wouldn’t have this much physical evidence...”
>”So we didn’t steal it back?”, Applejack asks.
>”No, we were just stealing them.”
>”Oh, I’m going to enjoy beating him to shit-”
>”You’re not getting anywhere near him, he knows your face.” Ponk tells her. “He knows all our faces.”
“So I get a new face.”
>”What do you mean?”
“This guy…” you’re staring at his mug from their own corporate site. “he used me.”
>”Woho- kitty got claws,” Applejack jokes.
>”What are you planning, Sparkle?”
>You shrug.
“It was a risky move hiring us, he really needed something for that shareholder meeting. So his balls are tied to that share value.”
>”Keep talking.”
“Likes to takes risk, greedy, thinks he’s smart.”
>”He’s the perfect mark.” Rarity nods.
“Plus he thinks he got rid of us- Rarity, can you put out a news alert that 4 as of yet unidentified people died in that explosion?”
>”Yes, dear~”
>”Wait, what am I missing here?”, Ponk asks.
>”She wants to run a con on him.” Applejack’s voice was distorted by her smile, “Oh, we’re gonna destroy him.”
>”I was just gonna wikileaks some stuff, but hell yeah, let’s do it.” Rarity agrees gleefully.
“No, WE are not going to do anything, and I’m not going to con-” You tell them, “ I- I’m not a criminal!”
>”Well, maybe that’s the problem. Yer thinkin’ you are something better than us.”
“I-”
>”Applejack’s right, darling. If you want him gone I can simply leak the things I have saved from when he hired us.”
>You bite your lip.
>”Come on. Yer wantin to use that brain of yours to destroy him, don’t you?”
>You do.
>”And he did not let us pay for candy.”
>”That’s not- He tried to kill us!”
>He did…
>He used your feelings to hurt others and then tried to dispose of you.
>Like Hydra…
“Yeah, sure… let’s con him.”

>Once by your van you let a program do a quick analysis of a drop of your blood and you calculate the strongest dosis you’re allowed to take.
>It’s week 14 of the trial, so you reduce it by another 14%.
>You told yourself you’ll go down 2% each week after reaching 15 weeks and then scale the dosis down further and further… 100 weeks is nothing you’d look forward to.
>Even though you did nothing to evade that explosion and would have embraced death on a whim, you don’t have a solidified death wish.
>But if you go on that little revenge trip of yours you need to take even more care of your future.
>You broke the law.
>Intentionally at that.
>And now you plan to do it again.
>Or, you let yourself be talked into it.
>You only planned to make him confess on tape or something, but the thought of destroying him...
>You are not a mean spirited person.
>But the character of a person really shows if they are pushed to their limits.
>You-
>You’re weak.
>Flam talked you into robbing Alpha Flight.
>They talked you into- whatever it is you’ll do to him.
>It’s not like you’re contractually obligated to follow through, you can still- bitch out.
>It’s stupid and risky.
>But this time you’ll have more than a single day to prepare.
>And it was your job for four years to catch criminals and learn from their mistakes.
>In the end- he still knows all your faces, you cannot con him just like that…
>Just as you hear the ping signaling your chemistry project to be completed you look up to them again.
“You all know how to cross a border without being seen, right? Stupid question. Of course you do. I- usually only take half doses twice daily but missed out on one this morning. It’ll make me sleepy, but it’ll be a long drive to Chicago anyway.”
>“Chicago?”
“Supply run,” you don’t elaborate further, “and even then, I’m not saying I’m really in on /anything/. If I can’t pick up there what we need I’m out, and even then, only when I come up with a good plan.”
>“A good plan? So what, we wait a month for you until you decide to tell us if you make up your mind?”, Rarity asks. “Might come as a shock to you, but we have lives. And I’m not going to spend my time at the whim of a junkie - excuse me.”
>You look up to her.
>“Yes, I recognize the smell of a methlab. And what medicine is homebrew?”
“Yeah, methamphetamine, that’s why it’s in a syringe, and it makes me sleepy,” you say sarcastically as you turn around and load up the small pistol with which you’ll administer your -
>Okay, now it sounds silly if you refer to it as medicine too.
“I won’t deny there to be some medically pure morphine in it though, which I’ve acquired legally.”
>“Perfect.”
“You don’t know a thing about me, Rarity.”
>“I know about the Holmes project”, she answers immediately.
>You didn’t expect her to know...
>“And I can read the things not even hidden from anyone,” with that she claps against the van where that little insult to you had been smeared. “And you didn’t care about hiding. Even standing near something like that is bad for any of us! It draws attention!”
“It’s like hiding in plain sight tho...”
>“And Holmes?”
“Should make you know why I need these,” you lift the applier of your cocktail, “and if I were a junkie, would I be able to resist it to talk to you about it? I’m in control.”
>“You’re lying to yourself.”
>No, you’re only lying to her.
>You know very well that you are not as much in control as you’d like to be.
>But the only thing in your priority list above shooting yourself with it right now was to prove her wrong.
>You look over to Applejack and the Ponk.
>The former just shakes her head in disapproval.
>The later shrugs.
“Three days,” you say. “He has a shareholder meeting coming up next week… Tell me Rarity, you’re well versed in financial crime, yes? How much money do you make if you predict share value to drop significantly?”
>“Well… a significant amount.”
“Three days,” you repeat. “If I don’t have a proper plan by then you can do as you please. I won’t make you wait for longer. But three days only if I can get what I want in Chicago.”
>The three look at one another and nod.
>Jesus Fucking Christ, you need your shot.
>Smile, Twilight, smile.
>“So what’s in Chicago?”
“A grifter whom I never caught. Back then she went by the name Sunset Shimmer. We need a face Flam doesn't know. And, ah- I live there.”
>Rarity frowns, but you don't heed her any more mind.
>She knows what she needs to know.
>You put the applier to your carotid artery and pul the trigger.