Random Thoughts and a little bit of content

Hey guys, hope you all enjoyed the weekend.

What’s new? Well, i should have my little project complete by the end of the week and ready to post for one.

Number 2? I’ve got you guys a bit of content to read today. Hope you enjoy this snippet!


I knew that before we took on this task we would need to stock up on some new weapons so that meant I’d have to get in the car and head to the Westside. So, a few hours later I found myself parked outside of a warehouse and hopped out of the car, checking the door twice to make sure it was locked. It wasn’t exactly the sort of neighborhood that you wanted to park in, after all. I wouldn’t live here. I wouldn’t work here. Hell, I didn’t particularly like visiting. But the Finn doesn’t go to you. You have to go to him.Maybe I’d better explain that. The Finn was our weapons dealer, fence, and general busybody. He was the sixth Finn that we had used; four of them we dumped when they didn’t manage to come up with enough hardware. The fifth got capped by a stray Magical Girl six months ago. They all called themselves the Finn. Supposedly, it came from some old sci-fi book, but that kind of thing wasn’t my style. Hell, I didn’t care what he wanted me to call him, really. What really matters to me was that this guy always had the goods. As I entered, I took a look around the place.One corner of the warehouse was Finn’s ‘shop’. Lots of tools, racks of parts to cars and guns and things I didn’t really want to speculate about, circuit boards by the box full, all were piled up in some way that obviously made a lot of sense to the Finn. In the middle of this, attacking some kind of handle piece with a grinder, was the Finn himself. The guy was even uglier than his predecessors; more of a rat than a human, really, although he wasn’t a mutant or monster or anything funny like that. Just somebody that nature had decided to whack with the ugly stick a few times when he was little. Ok, I meant bludgeon with the ugly staff. Gazing upon his work I interrupted him with a greeting.

“Hey, Finn.” I said. The rodent looking man looked up from his crafting and smiled. “You got my shipment?” I asked. The little freak peered up at me with that same smile and replied pleasantly. “Ah, Wil. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

Finn walked over to a rack of lockers and eased one open. “Although it’s much more pleasurable when you call and tell me that ‘money is not a problem’.”

“I recently happened into some cash.” Was my only elaboration on that statement, it was true; that pile I’d ripped off of the Marduk impersonator was a bit more than we were used to using, and I was a firm believer in the principle of careful reinvestment. I finally couldn’t hold the question that burned into my head since I entered. “So, what’ve you got?”

Finn pulled out several closed boxes, stacking them on a grimy workbench. “It’s your lucky day, Wil. I impress even myself with my skill and luck, getting you all of this hardware.” Did I mention that Finn had a tendency to toot his own horn? “Here, you’ll like this one.”

The first box had… a gun. It was a pistol with a big clip.  “I’ve got pistols, Finn.” I said while eying the artillery.

“I’m hurt, Wil. This,” he said, as he gestured to the weapon, “is a genuine Smith and Wesson factory prototype. Burst fire capable pistol nine mil with a cyclic rate you ordinarily see on point defense systems found with ships. It’ll put three rounds through the same hole, period.”

I hefted the gun. A bit heavier than I was used to, but it had good balance. “Sounds good, is it reliable?” I questioned.

“Didn’t jam once, I took it out to a range and test-fired a few hundred rounds. Wrist felt like I’d broken it for an hour or so afterward, though. For a nine mil, it’s got one hell of a kick.” Finn gestured to another box. “I took the liberty of preparing a few clips of ammo for you. First round is a kinetic penetrator, second is hollow-point, and third is Azide explosive. There are ten thirty-round clips.”

Thirty bullets was one hell of a large clip for a pistol, it turned out. Oh, well. If I ran dry, maybe I could beat one of them over the head with the thing. I placed the gun back within the box before speaking. “What else?”

“Try this on.” He had some kind of jacket, which looked like but definitely wasn’t leather.

“I like my jacket, Finn.” I stated plainly, obviously not comfortable with this idea.

“You’ll like this one better.” He said smugly.

I shrugged and pulled it on. It felt warm. A bit stiff, though. I spoke once more. “I hope you don’t think this is armored…”

“Better than that, a couple guys pulled it off one of the guys in Monster Disposal Team 23, a couple weeks ago. You hear about that?” The Finn said, curious about my opinion.

Damn. I hadn’t, but Aisha had clued me in…the monster disposal teams were our government’s way of telling the people that it had the monster problem under control, and to be honest, they generally did a good job. The average monster didn’t stand up well to military firepower, anyway. Team 23, though, had made a big mistake; they’d been caught between their targets, a pair of nasty things that looked like the illegitimate kids of Godzilla and Gamera, and a pack of magical girls bent to subjugate the two. The Team had taken something on the order of eighty percent casualties from the encounter, plus assorted casualties like my new pal Aisha. Gave a whole damn new meaning to ‘friendly’ fire, I suppose. Finn continued.

“Well, actually, they pulled a few fragments off, took it to their shack in Birmingham, and reverse-engineered the thing I just put on you. Consider this a test run.”

“Okay, what’s it do?” I asked, not caring anymore about the explanation.

Finn smiled. “Impact armor, hardens up when you get hit. Watch.” He grabbed a crowbar and swung it at my arm, faster than I’d have thought a rodent could move. I tried to get out of the way, but it hit… and my entire arm froze up for a second, and when it came back I was fine. Heck, didn’t even feel it. Now it was my turn to smile as I spoke. “This might come in handy.”

“Don’t get cocky, kid. That stuff won’t stop a bullet, and it sure as hell doesn’t work against whatever juice your little friends put out.” He said calmly.

There were other weapons he gave us: an absurdly short sawed-off shotgun, a bunch of ammo for the guns we already had, and pink smoke grenades. “Pink?” I asked.

“Yeah, pink. Figured it might give you a bit of an edge.” He stated.

He might be right, at that… no telling what these freaks would find to be ‘cute’.

“Oh, and one more thing…” Finn reached under his desk and pulled out a small leather sling, filled with a dozen or so throwing knives. “For Marc. Smith in Texas heard about you guys, made a ‘donation to the cause’. Maybe he can use ’em, I dunno. So, you think you can take a round dozen of them now?”

I’d asked for that, last week when I called, but now it wasn’t going to be enough.  “Probably. Can you do five times that?” I answered.

Ever see a rat go pale? It’s not pretty. “Five FUCKIN’ times? What the hell?” shrieked the Finn.

I gave him the story. We had been lucky, only running into five out of the sixty-four “Shining Crayon Knights”, and I wasn’t looking forward to seeing them again, but you know how Murphy’s Law works, and so do I. It took the better part of half an hour to get it all out to the car, inconspicuously, and safely. Still, though, I felt good. I think I now know what Mom meant when she talked about how much she liked to shop, anyway.

  1. Entertaining as always. Slightly dark, with hints of old school noirs mashed together with modern stylized manga elements. I like it, but I miss the humor of Magic Girl Hunters or the deep musings of UnReal Estate. That’s just me, though.


    • Michael Kerekes
    • May 6th, 2014

    An oldie! Wish I remembered which chapter this was from.


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Life Is MESC


The life of a middle school language arts teacher. Not to be taken to seriously. Kapeesh?




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