Kate began laughing at what she was certain at first was a Joke by Eddy, her gaze narrowing as she realized the poor man was actually believing the dogma that his lips spewed forth, her laugh cutting off as abruptly as if she was suddenly beheaded.
"I'm fresh out of Mac Tens." Was all she could think to say at the end of his rambling, cautiously trying to think how to politely decline arming the man with anything more dangerous then plastic eating utensils. Perhaps he'd always been unbalanced, or maybe it was how his mind folded in on itself to allow him to handle whatever gift he had? The specifics of which were no clearer now then when she asked a few moments ago.
She cast a sideways glance at Bloodhound, Eddy was his baggage after all, and with his mood this night she didn't want to give him anything else to yell about, but even so. "You have such unique friends , did I ever tell you that?" The Taxi's abrupt arrival at her home cut off anything further she had to say.
"Wait down here, I won't be long." Showing Bloodhound and two strangers the intimate details of her living space didn't seem like a smart move, not until she got to know them better anyway, then perhaps she'd be comfortable letting them in her inner sanctum. Some of them anyway. She headed for the stairs and hurried up, taking them two at a time.
The top floor, all hers with enough security to keep out anything short of a Swat team, and even then, they'd better bring a lot of body bags. After quickly being identified by the electromagnetic sensor and giving her voice keyed pass code the door unlatched with a soft click, the plain wooden exterior hiding the inch and half armor plating underneath, and the claymore in the floorboards under the welcoming mat quietly clicking from armed to safe as she turned the door knob.
"I'm home honey, miss me?" She gave the life sized portrait of her deceased girlfriend a tired smile where it hung above the couch, the silence of the room the only answer she'd ever gotten. Up here with the soundproofing even the city traffic and neighbors were drowned out, it was quiet enough to hear her heartbeat.
She flicked on the lights with a practiced gesture, grabbing for the fishbowl filled with Tigers Milk power bars as she walked past, tearing open a wrapper with her teeth as she headed for the armory, weighing options, calculating results, not liking the immediate answers.
Blood soaked clothes landed in the laundry bin, the Sig tossed onto the work bench for later cleaning, even though it hadn't even been fired. The panel on the wall along the side of the room opened at the touch of a button under the work bench, an array of clothing, firearms, and melee weapons neatly arranged, a filing cabinet unlatching its false front to display a staggering assortment of rifle and pistol magazines neatly arranged by weapon type and purpose.
She grabbed a black silk blouse from the hanger on her way past buttoning it while surveying the array of target cancelling options before her, chances were she'd be canceling a lot of non gifted scum that called the prison home, so high capacity magazines were a must, but nothing too heavy.
The Glock 18 felt smooth to her touch, the black plastic firm and reassuring, the 32 round magazines providing plenty of ammunition, in this case silver jacketed hollow points, and a suppressor to keep the noise down, perfect for finishing off rioting convicts evenings.
She took the M-14 with thermal scope and armor piercing ammunition almost as an after thought, just in case longer range support was necessary; even One shot could only shoot in a single direction at a time, well maybe not in his case.
Ear buds, a few grenades for area effect, some thermite paste to melt through any locks they might encounter, and a six pack of throwing knives along with an unhealthy amount of ammo and a few other odds and ends rounded out her evening entertainment package.
She considered switching the denim skirt off for black military pants, deciding at the last moment to pull on a equally short black leather skirt and jet black thigh high stockings instead, all those men in the prison would likely be more distracted by her looking like a harlequin then a commando, a distraction One Shot could use to his advantage, to say nothing of her own cancellation skills.
Now for Eddy, the guy might as well be called moon unit with how out of touch with earth he seemed to be, but if she didn't give him some weapon he'd be scavenging off the prison guards, and how reliable their crap was would be anybody's guess.
She smiled as she reached up and grabbed the Calico M 50 off the wall, he wanted to spray and pray this should give him plenty of the former at any rate, and he could always scavenge more .9mm ammo from the prison if he needed it.
She grabbed her jacket and shooters glasses off the couch, finished stuffing her pocket with more power bars as another pang of hunger spiked her midsection, and she blew a parting kiss to the painting of Rachel. "Keep it warm and wet for me lover, I'll see you soon, one way or another." It was what she always said to her before leaving on a job, it held a reassuring degree of truth and finality.
* * * * *
The '71 Hemi Cuda was a nice car, once her old mans, hers after he got sentenced, the purr of the engine almost feral in its complexity, and as reassuring as any sound she could recall.
"We got a tail, same one from the club, they left after seeing Eddy paint the wall with The Bouncers brains right before you guys showed up. One Shot, think you can take out a front tire?" She increased speed, nudging the needle up closer to seventy, feeling the purr of the engine change pitch as it responded. The extra speed would buy them a few more seconds, seconds she hoped her comrades would put to good use.