INTERRUPT: Insurance

Chapter 10 - Act I - INGRESSION

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Chapter 10 - INTERRUPT: Insurance

Jaysian

Such a dramatic performance. A tear might even appear, even if the rope brought some excessive vulgarity to the proceedings.

Of far more importance than your sordid little sideshow, did Sad Capitan divulge our mystical presence to anyone else?

Not that we know of, despite Monsieur Big King yelling all over the swap shop.

And…?

Ground control says the General will send in the drones.

All of them?

He must think we’re a price worth slaying for. A reassuringly grand gesture.

I’m so pleased you assume so. A quick check of this mission’s insurance policy tells me we’re covered for fire, theft and even third party interventions. But not all three within as many hours.

With you being so sure about our insurance, be assured I’m now less than reassured.

Your faith in me is truly touching, but it’s time to cease jesting. Let’s see if this over-the-top plan works.

There’s a plan? For this clusterfuck of an operation? You assume far too much. It’ll be us dropping from the top. The gravity here is incredibly reliable.

But our latest find has potential, don’t you agree? There’s a certain vitality about her which may help with our longer-term predicament.

I agree. Our diving demi-demon could be a real keeper, unlike our talkative captain. Witness the depravity of a man looking thrice-hit and far more lied to.

‘Talkative captain’ expounds the chatterbox itself. But he is well past his use-by date. Just look at the alcohol-embalmed connectome inside that skull.

On the upside, our plucky platypus – Leweyism ahoy! – has a veritable reservoir of angst inside her, with an incautious tongue to match. We should give her a quick shake-down.

In a few minutes we’ll see what she’s really made of. No more promises to each other.

But what about our ill-spliced, over-informed and covetous kingpin?

One to avoid – at least, for now. Time to focus instead on the millions of mind-full probabilities in this space. A multitude of variables are about to intersect and that dose of sunlight has given us a welcome boost.

I feel a rising hope of tide, or a tidy rope of hope. Or maybe a rising tide of rope. Anyway, didn’t we once think that ‘the best-laid plans of women and men remain the forecasts of mindless fools’?

No, I don’t recall that. But you’ve thought it now. Bravo, very poetic. Now, can we please concentrate?

Okay, okay. Keep your carapace on. I’ve pressed the other one’s little red button. Time to sit back, cross all our digits and watch the fireworks.

And stop humming ‘Burning Down The House’. It’s distracting.

Aww. Spoil-sport.

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