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   Chapter 13 No.13

The Inscrutable Mr. Robot By CSeanMcGee Characters: 10584

Updated: 2018-02-26 12:01


"Roll call, Hyenas! Let's go, one by one."

And just like that, as if her voice were the hammer of the gods, there came a sudden and tremendous clap of thunder, and with it, a torrent of oppressive and miserable summer rain pissed down from the heavens above.

One by one, each of the teams, either in the procession or en route to the motel, presented themselves in rousing fashion. All the while, raindrops the size of bricks beat down on their vehicles in a deafening roar. In spite of this, on their ham radios, the team chanted their anthem for war.

There were sixteen in all, and each team was armed excessively and inappropriately. One of which, Team Zebra, a group led by a white radical hell-bent on transforming social stigma against black minorities, had already arrived at the motel. Their leader - a tall German man who had as much meat on his bones as he did, tolerance for things like ignorance, insensitivity, and white privilege - loaded ammunition into his weapon as he watched his target being unloaded from the back of a van.

"There is no need for us to rush, " he said, stroking his weapon like a giant cock of death. "I have all of the time in the world."

He salivated as he stared through his scope.

"This is Alpha-Zebra, " he said, his finger gently touching the trigger as he spoke into the radio. "Confirming that I currently have a visual on the target."

And though the lashing rain made a mockery of a common person's vision, The German paid no mind. He followed each of the targets in his scope as they rushed from their vehicle to their room; pretending to shoot each of them in their legs and shoulders, and sometimes their heads.

"Do not engage, " shouted The Assistant. "I repeat, stand down; do not engage."

She drove like a maniac, but one of unquestionable skill and precision. And the rain too was hardly any bother. She weaved in and out of traffic and did her best to avoid hitting babies in prams, but in this weather, it was hard to tell the difference between a speed bump and an unforeseen tragedy.

"Alpha-Zebra, maintain your position and visual. Do not approach. We should be arriving in fifteen minutes or so. I repeat, do not approach. The target is volatile and dangerous."

The German had a bewildered look on his face. "This is Alpha-Zebra, " he said, "confirming the target as humanoid or..."

"Mechanoid, " said The Assistant. "Do not approach."

"Mechanoid?"

He eyed Mr. Robot with skeptical curiosity. The robot looked bulky and cumbersome. It moved on its own, yes, but it did so at a snail's pace, and its body looked ridiculously out of proportion.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

The Assistant didn't like being questioned, and she didn't much care for The German.

"I repeat, " she said sternly; her patience wearing thin. "Do not approach the target."

For as far as she could see, a blur of red brake lights smeared the sky, disappearing over the horizon. Traffic was completely still now. There was no moving in any direction.

"This robot I am seeing now is not looking sophisti…"

"Stand down, Alpha-Zebra!"

Her voice splashed against his ears like the rain on hi

be a bloodbath. We can't let that happen. We have to get there."

And as the old beetle rattled and shook underneath the pouring rain, in a secluded part of a motel parking lot, The German loaded bullet after bullet into what could only be described as a ridiculous amount of guns; for any type of conflict really. He didn't so much as take pride in his armoury as much as he did sheer pleasure. It might have been sexual or it might not, but it probably was.

"Fuck it, " he said, stroking and fingering the business end of his favourite rifle.

His team - made up of two women and two men; all black - sat expressionless in the back of the van. Like their leader, their weapons were locked and loaded. They each carried guns and grenades strapped to their legs and worn like wreaths around their necks. But more menacing were the knives and machetes they carried in their hands. Whatever their intention was, be it good or bad, it was clear that many people were going to get hurt.

The German put his favourite cassette into his old radio. There was something about the sound a cassette made as it snapped into place; it reminded him of his rifle.

"We are noble savages, my brothers, and sisters. We are like leopards. We are swift and agile, and we are no friend of the white man."

He said this, though he himself was white.

"The very same white man who will take our language, before he cuts out our tongues; who will take our culture before he enslaves our children; and who will take our humanity before he takes our lives. He wishes these things, but what he does not know is that we are children of Africa, we are the leopard, the white man cannot see us from the reeds; he cannot catch us should we choose to run, and he cannot escape us should we turn and give chase. And tonight, my brothers and sisters, we are going to take some cracker scalps. Are you down with it?" he said, articulate, educated, and polite.

The Zebras, as they were called, exited their vehicle and with weapons drawn, they walked slowly through the darkness, towards the room where the robot was being kept.

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