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I've just found out that there's a wrestling move called 'Sliced Bread #2'. How embarrassing. Anyway, that's not where the title of this journal comes from. I thought it up when I was in high school and always wanted to use it for something.
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Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
A couple of the invaders hustled me out to a waiting hovercraft while the rest of them continued to conquer the office building. They were a lot rougher than Jean Jacket was. "Cool hovercraft," I said, and one of them punched me in the stomach. I almost threw up, and it occurred to me that it might be to my advantage if I did, so I did.
It almost worked, too. Most of it went on one invader's leg, and he recoiled and let go of me. The other guy's grip loosened, too, and I took off.
I had just been punched in the stomach, so I wasn't really at full speed, but I was putting some distance between me and them. Then I got blown off my feet by some kind of golden blast, and ended up stunned and crumpled against a Subaru.
A big hand picked me up by the scruff of my neck. "What's this?" a deep and accented voice asked.
"He was running from one of the Table ops," said someone. "We figured he might know something."
The big guy tossed me back on the ground. "Put him in a bag," he said. "We can open him later." I caught a glimpse of him as he strode off, and recognized him. He looked exactly like pictures of Nefario.
That was it, then; I had to get out of there. I didn't mind matching wits with the hexagon/star guys--the Table?--but Nefario was another story entirely. He'd just kill my ass dead if he felt like it. Unfortunately my arms and legs didn't seem to be working right.
The two guys picked me up and shoved me into what looked like a giant Ziploc bag. They had a whole pile of these empty peoplebags in the back of the hovercraft. My bag was sealed and flung into the hold.
There were some kind of gas-release capsules in there with me that had me yawning and drifting off to sleep, so I don't remember much right after that, but I do remember I could hear the familiar zots and zorches of Cassie's energy blasts as the hovercraft was powering up and pulling away, and I thought something about what lousy timing she had.
It almost worked, too. Most of it went on one invader's leg, and he recoiled and let go of me. The other guy's grip loosened, too, and I took off.
I had just been punched in the stomach, so I wasn't really at full speed, but I was putting some distance between me and them. Then I got blown off my feet by some kind of golden blast, and ended up stunned and crumpled against a Subaru.
A big hand picked me up by the scruff of my neck. "What's this?" a deep and accented voice asked.
"He was running from one of the Table ops," said someone. "We figured he might know something."
The big guy tossed me back on the ground. "Put him in a bag," he said. "We can open him later." I caught a glimpse of him as he strode off, and recognized him. He looked exactly like pictures of Nefario.
That was it, then; I had to get out of there. I didn't mind matching wits with the hexagon/star guys--the Table?--but Nefario was another story entirely. He'd just kill my ass dead if he felt like it. Unfortunately my arms and legs didn't seem to be working right.
The two guys picked me up and shoved me into what looked like a giant Ziploc bag. They had a whole pile of these empty peoplebags in the back of the hovercraft. My bag was sealed and flung into the hold.
There were some kind of gas-release capsules in there with me that had me yawning and drifting off to sleep, so I don't remember much right after that, but I do remember I could hear the familiar zots and zorches of Cassie's energy blasts as the hovercraft was powering up and pulling away, and I thought something about what lousy timing she had.