Big time gangster or humble store owner…
…they all crumble when Mr Able comes to visit…
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(c) 2012 Simon Goodson.
Story Disclaimer
Mr Able’s Visit
Mr Able opened the door, stepping into the small shop. The owner was stooped over the counter
reading a paper. He didn’t even glance
up. Mr Able studied him while seeming to
drift along an aisle studying the bric-a-brac on sale.
Short, five two, slightly built. Eyes almost hidden behind thick glasses. Shaved face showing a slight stubble. Dressed in a very worn brown suit. A true eccentric. Eyesight could so easily be fixed. Modern shaving nanites ensured no stubble
need ever show. The nick on his neck
showed he still used a bladed razor.
The shop matched its owner, second hand items from down the
years. Most local, so without even the
spice of being off world. Tired, old,
dusty.
Or so the shop seemed.
The security scan as Mr Able entered had been advanced, beyond even the
level of the local military. He doubted
this world’s military tech would even have been aware of the scan. Mr Able had easily deflected and defeated the
scan, making it ignore the extras he carried within his body. Still, it made for an interesting job. One that truly called for his own
skills. Few jobs did, which was why he did
few jobs. And charged so highly for
those he did take on.
The weaponry he sensed locked onto him was also surprisingly
advanced for this planet. Ultra high
yield lasers. A rapid fire chain gun
with explosive tipped shells. Two
powerful gauss cannons. And a plasma
cannon, which would even give Mr Able’s powerful shields a test. Plasma cannon’s were more often used to take
down aircraft than as anti-personnel devices.
All these weapons were tracking him from above the false ceiling. Mr Able loaded remote infiltration software
into the weapons, quietly taking control of them.
Next to deal with was the shops shielding. The hardware used to target intruders, or
indeed customers, would vaporise the store if used. The plasma cannon would take out half the
block. There had to be shields in place
to protect the store and its owner if the weapons were ever fired. There were.
Mr Able subverted them too, taking full control.
Smiling he walked over to the counter. The owner looked up with a pleasant smile.
“How may I help you?” his dull, quiet voice was in keeping
with his appearance.
Mr Able was himself nondescript. Average height, weight, features combined with
a pleasant but not memorable voice.
“Actually it’s how I can help you.” he replied.
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