100 Words A Day by Hydrargentium

Well, at least 100 words — best served random….

Tag: Rockface

“Wanna see me crush this can with my bare hands?”

The grin on Rockface’s stony mug was stupid, manic, and more than a little annoying.

“No, I don’t want to see you-”

The can erupted with a spray of cola, coating Rockface, and peppering Suave with a thousand caramel-coloured dots.

Suave looked down at his tuxedo, then reached into his breast pocket to pull out a silk handkerchief. He unfolded it with a flick of the wrist, and dabbed casually and carefully at the soda that pocked his cheeks and brow.

Rockface eyed him skeptically, one ridge of stone raised above an eye. Then he turned and headed for the showers.

“And that is why I think wearing a white tuxedo as a costume is stupid.”

They burst through the gate, and immediately deployed around the courtyard. Stripes and Starchild found cover behind a truck along the left wall. Cannon stood ready to the right, ignoring cover for a better field of view. Gazer hugged the gatepost, staring at nothing, and Warwind took the opposite side. Atomica raced across the open space, juking sideways at random intervals to throw off snipers, and then disappeared under the overhang of the inner gate. Rockface strolled straight up the middle, stopping dead centre in the courtyard and crossing his arms on his massive chest. Groundhog, of course, was nowhere to be found.

The Fire King found all these preparations quite amusing.

By the time I got to the party, it was pretty much over. A big guy, with skin like a rockfall, stood in the middle of the warehouse. The others on the team were tossed about randomly, unconscious. Meltdown, Water Woman, even Lizardo — they were all down for the count. The rocky guy looked like he’d just finished the beatdown, and was wondering what to do next.

When I opened the door, he turned to face me — surprisingly fast for a guy covered in stone.

“Who the hell are you?!”

I smirked at his accusing finger. Why do they always point like that?

“Me? I’m just the guy with the gun.”

I reached into my coat, and pulled out Bessie. She gleamed slightly in the harsh fluorescent light.

“That ain’t gonna do you no good. You know what I do with guns?”

Suddenly, he was standing deep into my personal space. Even from up close, it looked like fallen rock. Did I mention he moves fast for a big guy?

“I eat guns for breakfast.”

He smiled a big toothy smile. Even his teeth looked like loose stones. Then he grabbed my gun. I’m sure he thought he could just yank it out of my hand, and leave me helpless.

But he didn’t know Bessie. As soon as he touched her, she grew tentacles. Big scaly things, with four-fingered hands tipped with claws, except the claws looked like an assortment of bits from Cthulu’s pocket knife.

To his credit, Mr. Rockface’s screams were manly and throaty — not girly at all.

“Oh yeah, did I mention? The gun doesn’t like other people touching her.”

Mal-ice marched down the long hallway, the bass line from “London Calling” thrumming through his head and setting pace to his feet. His Doc Martens made a solid stomping sound on every fourth step to help mark the beat.

Passing a guard, he smirked, and reached out to poke a finger. His finger sounded like a woodpecker, tap-tap-tap, against the guard’s frozen chest.

Almost as an echo, he heard a pounding behind him, boom-boom-boom. That would be Rockface, breaking through the ice-bound portal. It was a little sooner than he’d hoped.

Well, he thought, there’s always going to be risk when you cross your boss. Time to step it up.

John Lydon screamed “God Save the Queen” in the back of his brain as he ran on, a quick blast freezing up every door as he passed.