The Retarded Warrior and 
DARK Lore Presents:

                   ** Lengths and Extremities: Part 1 **
                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

April 15, 2025
--------------

	Frank Sifton popped another cigarette into his mouth and lit it with a
blue Bic lighter which he then tossed onto the dashboard. Although both of
the front windows were drawn down as far as possible, the air in the car
had still gone and stayed disgustingly stale after a hastily smoked pack of
Marlboros. The clock under the climate controls read 11:30 pm. He sighed
heavily with boredom. The street outside looked green through the light
amplification mode of his Vision helmet.
	Sitting in the passenger seat beside him was Jerry Kosk, the
surveillance man and Sifton's partner for the night. Kosk was a thin, wiry
man with darting eyes and a razor blade nose who had a deep, primal fear of
pain. He sipped nervously at a warm-going-on-cold cup of coffee, dreading
the events of the evening.
	Two blocks down the street was a boxy, three-storied building with the
words 'Scott's Olde Steak House' scripted in a gothic english font on a sign
that hung precariously from the second floor. It shook gently with each
passing breeze, perhaps preparing to fall and crush the next unfortunate
person to walk through the doorway directly beneath it.
	Sifton took one last drag on his cigarette and then crammed it into the
car's ashtry which was already close to overflowing after a week's worth of
chain smoking.
	The door to Scott's swung open and was held by a tall, slender young 
man in a black leather bomber jacket. Following him out was an equally young
woman with long, unrestrained blonde hair that flowed along behind her as
she moved. 
	Catching the man's face in the box outlined in the middle of his visor,
Sifton called up the Image ID feature and was met by an extensive parade of
transparent, fluorescent green letters. They read:

	"Name: Elminster, Stephen
	 Aliases: None
	 Born: Oct. 6, 2004
	 Height: 6'0"		Weight: 165 lbs
	 Hair: Brown		Eyes: Brown
	 Distinguishing features: 
		Right forearm - 4" knife scar
		Left shoulder (front) - gunshot scar (.38)
	 Preferences: 
		Single-handed firearms
	 Notes: 
		Rebel raid leader
 		Favours hit-and-run tactics
		Ambidexterous
		Above-average marksman
	 Reward: 
		$120,000 Dead
	     $175,000 Alive"

	"Black Cat to Bottle Rocket," Sifton said into the radio. "Two targets
sighted heading north on Yonge. Primary target identification 'Elminster'
confirmed." 
	Bottle Rocket grunted dully in acknowledgement. "His girlfriend?"
	Sifton elbowed Kosk sharply nearly causing him to spill his coffee into
his lap. "Secondary Target 'Karen James' also confirmed," he stammered and
gave Sifton a hurt wayward glance.
	Bottle Rocket grunted again and announced "We're heading to the fifth
floor of the Eaton Centre. We'll catch them as they come up. Fire Wheel,
stand by."
	A third voice, deep and throaty, briefly joined in. "This is Fire 
Wheel. Our engines are running. Your call Bottle Rocket."
	A series of hollow thumps and shuffling sounded in the receiver and
then stopped. "Bottle Rocket in position. Looks like we'll be able to take
this solo. They're heading into the target zone on their own. We'll tag them
as soon as they get within range. This is too fucking easy."
	Sifton grinned and stuck another cigarette into his mouth and lit it 
while Kosk continued to sip at his coffee, partially relieved.

                                 * * * * *

	Karen James stepped out of the restaurant onto the sidewalk and took a
deep breath of the crisp, cool April night air. A light breeze flicked
lazily at the hem of her black evening dress making it flutter behind her.
She pulled her matching black overcoat closer to her body and smiled.
	Elminster let the door swing back into its frame. For a moment, he 
stood motionless outside Scott's just watching her.
	With her arms outstretched and her head tilted back, she did a single
ballet twirl on one foot and giggled. Stopping the spin with her other foot,
she took a few skipping steps to Elminster's side and coiled her arm around
his waist. He put his arm around her shoulders in kind and together they
walked crookedly up the street like a couple in a three-legged race.
	"Dinner was fabulous, Steve!" she said, staring up at Elminster's face
with her pale blue eyes.
	He looked back at her, smiling but saying nothing.
	Karen breathed a blissful sigh and said "You must have a monstrous tab
there, though. The food cost enough to put a small country in debt!"
	"They know I'm good for it," Elminster said, looking back at her. "Of
course, they wouldn't give that kind of credit to just anybody." His eyes
wandered to the sky and fixed themselves on a plane flying off towards the
Harbourfront. "But in today's world, money is easy to come by if you know
who to kill for it."
	Karen nodded absently and leaned her head to Elminster's chest, making
shuffling down the street together that much harder. Usually, she preferred
not to think about his underground status. His job made her worry to no end
and her lack of response would have been impossible on any other night. 
Tonight was different though. It became special when he read her mind and
ordered everything that she wanted for her without asking. And at the
instant the candles at their table were lit and the roving violinist began
to play, she discovered something about herself.
	"God, I love you, Steve," she said, very careful to make it sound
casual, just so she could see whether or not he expected such a remark.
	He didn't. Elminster stopped, more out of surprise than anything else.
Looking down at the face pressed against his chest, he managed an equally
casual sounding question: "Really?"
	Releasing her hold on him, Karen took a step back and looked him over
from head to toe. A gust of wind blew lightly down the street, tousseling
her hair, sweeping locks of it over her shoulders and coiling a few strands
across her face.
	Taking one of his hands in her own and running the other through her
tresses, she continued walking, pulling him along behind her. "Yes, really,"
she said, giving her voice a hint of mock-surprise sounding as if she was
stunned that he would doubt her affection. "If you ask me why, I'm going to
take back what I said and we're through." 
	Elminster chuckled. "I didn't mean to sound like I was questioning your
sincerity or anything. You just caught me off-guard, that's all."
	"That was the whole point," Karen answered with her best heart-melting
smile. "So how about you? Do you love me too or what, huh?"
	Elminster stopped dead in his tracks again. After studying Karen's wide
eyes and pursed lips for a brief moment, he said "Yeah, I guess so." 
	As soon as the words had left his mouth and drifted into the air, a
siren sounded in his head and a voice in the back of his mind screamed
bloody murder. "You just made the biggest mistake of your life , Steve old
man," it said and then promptly retreated in an irritated huff back into its
corner at the base of Elminster's brain between where his deepest fear and
most embarassing moments were kept.
	The voice was right of course. It always was. It was what gave it its
charm. Elminster realized it too, but it was already too late. Before he
could amend his earth-shattering answer, Karen let go of his hand and took a
step back. 
	"YOU GUESS SO?!" she exclaimed, genuinely upset this time.
	Elminster's lips flapped like those of a beached fish. The voice added
snidely: "Bang. You're dead. Your only chance now is to act stupid. Women
love that. There's no other possible way to recover now."
	"I meant 'Of course I do'!" he said, trying weakly to smile. The gears
in his brain creaked another half revolution and he added "Don't get carried
away, Karen. I'd die for you, you know that."
	"Oh you would, would you?" she snapped back, making him flinch. "Prove
it."
	The mind-voice gave him a hollow cackle and then faded back out.
Elminster didn't reply, mainly because he couldn't think of anything to say.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. 
	Finally Karen's feet started to move and she stomped past him in the
original direction, away from Scott's and towards the Eaton Centre. "Take me
home," she said. "We'll talk about this some other time."
	Elminster shoved his hands deep into his pockets, hung his head and
started to follow. It was a genuinely pathetic situation. The mighty Steve
Elminster, a man with eighty some-odd confirmed kills and who had escaped
countless life-threatening situations was beaten by a nineteen year old girl
who had never been in a fight as far as he knew of. It was not right. He was
respected and in some cases even feared by his fellows in the underground.
And after he pulled off his last job, the bounty on his head was raised to
six digits for Christ's sakes! He figured it was a good thing his friends
weren't there to see him. Otherwise he would probably have to move to a new
town and change his name.
	After following her a few steps, he stopped and cocked his head to one
side. "Hold on, Karen," he said, strength suddenly returning into his voice.
"Someone's coming."
	From behind them, a sleek, jet-black Lexus sports coupe shot out of a
side street a couple of blocks down from Scott's. Its tires scheeched as it
turned, fishtailing a little bit. It took the corner and sped towards where
they stood doing about 60 miles per hour with its high-beams trained on
them.SAUCE00Lengths & Extremities Part 1       The Retarded WarriorDark Illustrated    19941017<&

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