Reality Heist by Geordi Riker (e manga reader .txt) 📕

the one who gets to arrange outfits for everyone, but since he’s tangled up right now with Skip and Ky and some local terrorist stronghold, I was asked to raid the local thrift shops. And a designer store, but I couldn’t find a suit in Dutch’s size, so I had to order that one to be tailored. Hopefully it’s ready to go for when we pull this mess off.”

                I held out one of the floral-print skirts distastefully, careful to only allow a few fingers to touch it. “Why so many skirts?”

                “Because you’re wearing pants in a no-pants zone. I wasn’t sure what kind you like, and since you don’t use the Network, there was no way for me to ask you. And don’t girls like having options anyways?”

                “And don’t guys always pass out stereotypical judgements based on their limited range of experience with the opposite sex?” I let the skirt drop, eyeing my new wardrobe with a critical eye. “And if you think that I’m going to wear heels, you’ve got another thing coming.”

                “Hate the game, not the player,” Jesse says with a shrug. “And the heels aren’t for you, they’re for Ky. She’s gonna be one of the distractions, since she’s obviously the only female with looks around here.”

                I punch him in the arm. “Ow,” he says, massaging it with a grin on his face. “That really hurt. Please don’t hit me again, I don’t think I could stand another punch like that.”

                I stomp on his foot. Not hard, since he is going to need to be light on his feet soon, but with enough pressure so that he knows that I meant it. He shifts weight to his uninjured foot even as he gives me a pouty face. “Guess I earned that one.”

                “Ya think?”

                He clears his throat and jerks his head towards the heap of crumpled suits, shirts, and skirts. “Anyways, you should probably change into a skirt now, in case we have to make a run for it… No, not that one.” He snatches the midnight blue dress out of my hand that I had picked up simply to see what was underneath. As if I was going to actually wear that monstrosity. It’s covered in sequins and sparkles even in the dim lighting of the motel room. Plus it’s skin tight.

                He handles it as if it were the set of crown jewels from Britain and gently lays it on the bed, apart from the mass of clothes. “This one’s for Ky. It cost me fifty bucks, and that was on sale.”

                “It is the ugliest thing that I have ever seen.” Okay, maybe not the ugliest, but it definitely makes the top ten.

                “Well, unlike you, Ky can actually use the Network, and she picked this one out herself. Although she was a little distracted at the time, since they had just been spotted by some of the terrorists.”

                My mouth starts to fall open before I regain control of it. “Why are they by terrorists?”

                Jesse grins. “It’s this little thing called commandeering. They need to get us some supplies, like surveillance equipment, some sturdy nylon rope- preferably black- and firepower. Even just some tranquilizer guns would be good.”

                “Wait, we use actual guns for these things?”

                Jesse’s lips pinch together, one side lilting up slightly as he gives me a sheepish look. “Well, sometimes we end up going into a hot one. It’s a hard life we’re in, you know? I mean, come on, it’s either us or them, and we’re crappy enough shots that half the time we miss anyways.”

                “And what about the other half?” I demand, my sweaty hand clenching a skirt.

                “Well- careful with that, you’ll wrinkle it. Um, the other half of the time is mostly flesh wounds, you know, like legs, knees, maybe a shoulder. We aim low. Besides, it’s not our fault that we’re stuck in this life, having to steal stuff in the hopes that we’ll get to go home. At least those other people have a home, and a stable job. Nobody forced them into what they’re doing. It’s not like we go out of our way to kill people or get into shootouts. Unless it’s, like, Hitler or Stalin or some other war criminal. And in that case, we’re doing a service, and it’s mostly Dutch and Ky who do it, so you know that the person’s dead and not writhing in agony.”

                “But we’re going to get shot at?”

                “No, not for this one,” Jesse replies, trying to dissolve my worries. “I mean, especially not you, since you won’t even be in a danger zone. There’s no way that we’ll set you up in a spot where you might get shot at. You’ll probably be in the getaway vehicle with Chase or someone else. There’s no way that we’d have you go solo for your first one.”

                “What about for the second? Or third even.” I can actually feel my body start to freak out, my heartrate jumping higher than nearly getting hit by that truck.

                Jesse sighs. “Don’t worry about it. Considering what your skill set is, there’s no way that we’d actually let you in the field. You’ll probably operate from a safe zone.”

                “Great, I feel so much better.”

                Jesse glances at his watch. “I still need to check out the Dom before the museum closes. Tomorrow’s going to be crammed with a bunch of simulations to make sure everyone knows what they’re going to be doing. Amaar will be exempt, of course, since he’s some hoity-toity geologist and needs to keep that cover going for a couple more days. You want to stay here while I go check it out?”

                “Absolutely not. I’m coming with.” I grab a skirt and- thank whoever it was that gave Jesse brains- leggings before spinning around and marching to the bathroom. “Just hold on a second.”

Imprint

Images: photo courtesy of Google images. all rights reserved by the makers of the
Publication Date: 09-30-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
It's not a finished work! But slowly, like a snail murderer, the ending is creeping up. along with all the editing that needs to happen. If you come across a passage that doesn't sit right with you, please message me with the subject line "Haha, you suck at writing" seriously. we're all super nice on this site, so a mean subject line like that will never show up unless prompted. so now, it is prompted :)