Task Orientated

Part 1.1

The Door began to shake against its hinges and the lock.

Every passing second the shaking becomes more and more violent. But that only proves to be a sweeter lure, and I drive myself forward towards the door. My left hand finds itself wrapped around the worn brass knob, and I'm pressed against it, trying to force my shoulder, elbow and hip through the weathered ash coloured wood.

No luck.

I backed up a few steps, only to throw myself back into the door. The door buckled and buckled with each impact, but I wasn't getting anywhere. I paused, to look around for any thing that could help me to get through this door.

The bedroom door was open.

Under the bed would be a lock box, containing my lever gun.

I burst through the door only to slide to my knees and press myself under the mattress stand. At the tips of my fingers I could feel the steel lock box, and I fumble around for the side handle. Eventually my gloved fingers catch a feel of the wire handle.

I tug the box out.

I stand up and smash off the lock with the heel of my boot.

A high pitch scream shrills against my ear drum. I frantically open the box and pull the fire arm into my hands. Almost automatically I work the action, finding an empty chamber. My hands plunge back into the box fumbling about for cartridges.

With the heft of a full magazine, I return to the front door.

In the adjoining window I can see car lights flick on and the sound of car doors closing hastens the beat of my heart. I place the lever gun against the crack between the door and its frame and fire. It burns a clean hole through the locking mechanism. This time the door opens when I throw my frame against it.

The sedan quietly vanishes from sight rounding a corner at the end of the street.

I didn't make it.

"You doing alright there?"

I find myself sat within my associate's car.

Must've fallen asleep during the long transit, but I'm certainly awake now.

I fondle the side of my helmet, feeling for the switch. Briefly my vision is tinted orange, and other a few flashes of the booting up OS, soon after the colour correction activates. I'm staring up at the half-cracked mirror, finding my mint green bird mask, well a dozen of my mask staring back at me from each of the fractured pieces.

"You're awfully quiet there..." Vanessa said, her pointed beak quietly clicking on each syllable, "... you okay, Audax?"

"I'm fine," I say, turning my head to face the chimera, "day dreaming, that's all."

The corner of her beaked lips bends into a smirk, "you're a day dreamer?" she said in disbelief.

Only for a moment did she turn her white and grey cross hatched face to me, only to quickly look back at the road. Her horned brow had been half furrowed, giving her a look of half surprise and half concealed doubt.

"That's a surprise... I figure you'd be to serious for day dreaming," Vanessa said, pausing to smirk, "or, y'know too preoccupied... doing shit like... uh... cleaning your gear. I guess. I mean, it's always utterly immaculate at the start of a job."

"Thanks," I say, "without something to focus on, I find my mind wonders..."

Vanessa nodded, the four tentacles hanging from the rear of her head bob, pulling against the back of her collar. She tucked away there, keeping them restrained and mostly concealed. The way it was put to me is large, fleshly hair like tendrils that are only capable of obscuring vision and being grabbed.

We sat in silence.

Vanessa shifted in her seat, then rolled her fingers across the wheel one after the other.

She slacked her left hand away, to lay it on her lap, only to return it to the wheel moments later.

Her beak began to rhythmically click, a loosely familiar beat. She threw a side ways glance, hesitating then ceasing after only a few brief moments.

"What's the job you've picked tonight?"

Vanessa smirked, and she began energetically, "get this, right, Audax. This old guy, a former Martian Legionnaire no less, wants us to deal with a ghost."

Audax isn't one for jokes. It isn't part of the mask's character. I may smirk under the mask, but Vanessa happily barks up the wrong tree regardless. I reply, "a ghost?"

Vanessa continues, as energetically as before, "so he bought this old estate – y'know, one of those old robotic plantations – on the cheap. This grizzled old bastard, rough voice and all, after only a single visit decides that there's ghost haunting the place. Oh... Audax, I can't get over it."

"Wouldn't surprise me," I said, "we've seen more then our fair share of the strange and bizarre after all..."

"Wait, what?" Vanessa exclaims, briefly turning a shocked hung jaw look my way, "you believe in ghosts?"

I nod, "half believe – enough to keep myself prepared for the shock of ever meeting one."

Vanessa chuckles, "you're crazy. It's probably just some old haywire security system."

"That's the obvious assumption," I say, nodding my head, "my guess; a couple of easily dealt with auto turrets, and at most an ancient security bot, half way though decomposition. Something easy enough to deal with would make my week, Vanessa."

"When do we ever get that lucky, Birdy?" Vanessa said.

She pulled the car off the road, just behind an older looking pick up. I'm if old man, leant against it, is our employer. I unlatch myself and stand up aside of the car.

Downhill from the road was a stone wall and past that, the estate.