From: Jennifer.M.Collins@dartmouth.edu (Jennifer M. Collins)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Nope, Not Molly...
Date: 26 Aug 92 01:38:06 GMT
Organization: Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH

She pushed the door to the Chat open, hard, and strode in, letting it
hit the guy entering close behind her ... too close for her taste.  He
swore at her rather loudly, calling her an unconsiderate bitch. She
turned about quickly on the heels of her black boots, her long braided
hair whipping around to hit anyone in the immediate vicinity as she did
so...

"Excuse me?" she said clearly. As she stared at him with the tiger's
eyes of a cat, he looked away.  Her well-manacured hands rested on the
matte black Ono Sendai she wore slung around her shoulder in its
leather case, which sat comfortably on her hip.  She tapped her
fingernails rythmically ... waiting for his answer.  

"Nothin'..."  He tried to look mean and nasty, but found he was
faltering under the piercing gaze of this ... woman.  He tried to walk
away, but she put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard.  He tried to
knock her hand away and then winced ... from pain.  He looked over at
his shoulder and watched as, slowly, four sharp, thin blades emerged
from under her short black-painted nails ... they began to dig into his
shoulder.  His eyes were wide with fear, and he was regretting ever
having decided to follow this woman.  As soon as she noticed a hint of
blood on his white tee-shirt, the blades were retracted and her hand
removed as though it had never been there.  She left four short slices
on his shoulder for him to remember her with ... 

He was shivering and didn't move.

"Fuckin' coward." She winced at him, mocking him, and moved both hands
to his face, holding his cheeks.  "Mind your manners around a lady from
now on, asshole.  Next time you speak that way to me, I'll remove your
tongue."  She let all eight blades out to barely scrape his cheek, and
then retracted them, and turned away from him, leaving him there alone
with the dark stain spreading on the front of his jeans...

"Good day, 'eh, Countess?" Ratz asked her as she took a seat at the bar
and the plaything she'd left stumbled his way out the door.

"Very good, in fact, thank you."  She lifted the vodka/grapefruit juice
mix that Ratz had placed in front of her and took a drink, glancing
into the mirror behind the bar, smiling at Ratz as he replaced the
vodka bottle.  "You wouldn't believe the business I did today ... "

"No, Countess" he laughed mechanically, "I probably wouldn't ..."

She was quiet then, and began to look around the bar.  "Did he come in
today, Ratz?"

"Nope.  Haven't seen 'im."

"Shit."

She finished her drink and handed over her credit stick.  As Ratz
handed it back to her, she stretched her long figure and and adjusted
her black leather jacket about her.  She then dug into a pocket of her
leather pants ... pulling out a simchip.  Ratz tried to see which
simchip it was, but she popped it into herself too quickly, and walked
away.  Her black boots rang as her heavy steps carried her to the door.
 An evil smile grew crept on to her face, and her eyes became those of
a cat's again.  Ratz knew someone was about to get fucked up.

She walked out...


________________________________________________________________________
_______(how's that, strake?? )

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********                       *  "I'm not afraid of death ...         
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* almitra               *             I am afraid of murder..."        
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* almitra@dartmouth.edu *                                        
ClockDVA    *
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