02-16-2016, 05:16 AM
Ditto moved stiffly with his new platoon that flowed out the broken warehouse door. Vinny's boot caught the light and caught his eye, but he quickly snapped his head forward again.
A black van awaited them down the alleyway. Two grunts hoisted Diesel by his thick biceps and hurled him in. The van visibly sagged as the thug crashed onto the floor, the suspension squeaking beneath the weight. Several of the troops climbed into the van and slammed the door shut. The wheels squealed and the van darted down the street. A second getaway vehicle rolled into the vacant space, and Ditto followed the remainder of the strike force into the back. The van sped off in hot pursuit of the first, but their presence went unnoticed completely by the neighbourhood, if not ignored entirely.
Ditto crouched in the cramped space, the van jostling over the uneven road. Silence reigned inside, except for a brief murmur from Diesel. An equally brief rifle butt to the criminal's forehead ended any further noise.
His eyes studied the grooved and etched surface of the rifle in his hands. Team Rocket, such as it was, was gone. Tor, Vinny and Shingles were all dead. Skaggs had abandoned them for his girlfriend Enigma. Ricky ... well, even if he wasn't dead, he wasn't capable of a single cogent thought. Diesel was all he had left. It was at least fitting that the crew member with the most talent would survive the longest. As he rocked to another bump in the road, Ditto couldn't help but think that all of his time and effort in the Omniverse was about to be lost to this mysterious invasion.
And who were they, anyway? No insignias on their uniform gave away anything. Ditto had limited knowledge on any armed forces in Coruscant outside the white armoured troops of the Empire. He had two guesses, and he didn't like the result of either; it was either an elite troop of the Empire, come to claim the device that he harboured instead of the rogue soldier, or Spook Eye had finished screwing around with him. One way or another, he was no doubt an unintended prisoner of one of his foes. He hoped to pick up something from the other soldiers; banter, mostly, but their steady breathing was the only indication of life.
The van stopped, forcing Ditto to dig his flat boots into the floor and tense his legs. The side door slid open and the troops clambered out, leaving Ditto and one other soldier left in the van. He looked at Ditto expectantly as he bent down to grasp Diesel's arm. Ditto fought back a 'tch,' strapped the rifle to his back, and slung Diesel's other arm over his shoulder. The extra weight set Ditto's teeth together as he struggled to move the behemoth out of the van without succumbing to the pressure, nor exposing a lack of discipline and strength inherent in these black ops soldiers.
As Ditto planted his foot on the sidewalk, he gazed up at the building the troops were entering. It was the same building that Ditto had stolen Cyborg's communicator from, and the last time Tor had helped him before turning his back on Team Rocket. The building stretched a few stories into the sky, sunlight glistening on the dusty windows. A trash can had collapsed and spilled its contents over the alleyway on the right. It looked like any other craphole apartment block on Tier 5. Hiding in plain sight was obviously a mantra for this Spook Eye.
So Spook Eye had found Team Rocket's hideout. As Ditto hauled Diesel's limp body up the short flight of stairs and through the door, he pondered how the rival gang boss had discovered his warehouse. The obvious answer was Enigma and Skaggs, but it seemed like a fast retaliation for what had transpired between them. He had expected a reprisal from Spook Eye eventually, but something seemed off about the swift execution.
Ditto and his assistant dragged Diesel past the watchman who had given Ditto pause when he had tried to infiltrate as Cyborg. This time he didn't even glance up from his magazine. Judging by the scantily clad human woman on the front cover, his attention was captive no matter what happened in front of him. Ditto gave him a sharp, hard glare to satisfy the itchy anger in his gut and moved on.
They came to the three sets of doors again. 'Storage' on the left, nothing on the centre door, and 'Basement' on the right. Reading Ditto's partner's movements, they were heading to the basement. Ditto opened the door with a free hand, quickly slapping it back on Diesel's imposing arm, and gingerly lowered the gang member down the winding staircase.
The fluorescent lights above flickered, casting a gross amalgamation of their shadows that flashed and hid with each tick. The tiled floor gritted beneath Ditto's boots, with streaks of dirt and blood criss-crossing in equal measure. He parted his lips and breathed through his mouth to avoid the coppery, musky odour that suffocated the air.
Ditto and the other soldier staggered down the room, passing a row of steel barred cages on either side of them. Most were empty, though none were clean. The soldier stopped at the end and swivelled to face an open cage. Ditto followed his lead and hurled Diesel into it, his bulky body crashing onto the tiles with an audible thump. He stayed still. How hard had they hit Diesel to keep him unconscious this long?
The soldier swung the cage door closed, the hinge protesting the entire way. It clicked into place, and the soldier shook the bars to ensure the door remained shut. He turned Ditto once he was done.
"That's done. Let's head back out."
Ditto nodded curtly. "Lead the way."
They strode out of the cage-lined corridor and headed towards the staircase. Ditto curled his fingers into a fist. He didn't want to leave his final asset locked in a dungeon in the custody of his greatest enemy. What if they tortured him? What if he gave up his secrets? Not to mention he hated leaving such untapped potential, potential that could be better utilised in Team Rocket. Ditto stole a glance over his shoulder. He had to think of some plan to get him out.
Ditto's shin hooked on something as he stepped forward and he found himself hurtling towards the floor. He threw out his palms, but his cheek slapped the tiles with enough force to bounce his head. The muscles in his forehead pulled taut as the bewilderment retreated from his mind. He looked over his shoulder to find his foot caught over the soldier's shin, and the barrel of his own rifle pointed directly at the back of his head.
"What are you doing?" Ditto cried out.
The soldier narrowed his eyes. "You aren't one of us."
He flipped the rifle and slammed the butt into Ditto's face.
A black van awaited them down the alleyway. Two grunts hoisted Diesel by his thick biceps and hurled him in. The van visibly sagged as the thug crashed onto the floor, the suspension squeaking beneath the weight. Several of the troops climbed into the van and slammed the door shut. The wheels squealed and the van darted down the street. A second getaway vehicle rolled into the vacant space, and Ditto followed the remainder of the strike force into the back. The van sped off in hot pursuit of the first, but their presence went unnoticed completely by the neighbourhood, if not ignored entirely.
Ditto crouched in the cramped space, the van jostling over the uneven road. Silence reigned inside, except for a brief murmur from Diesel. An equally brief rifle butt to the criminal's forehead ended any further noise.
His eyes studied the grooved and etched surface of the rifle in his hands. Team Rocket, such as it was, was gone. Tor, Vinny and Shingles were all dead. Skaggs had abandoned them for his girlfriend Enigma. Ricky ... well, even if he wasn't dead, he wasn't capable of a single cogent thought. Diesel was all he had left. It was at least fitting that the crew member with the most talent would survive the longest. As he rocked to another bump in the road, Ditto couldn't help but think that all of his time and effort in the Omniverse was about to be lost to this mysterious invasion.
And who were they, anyway? No insignias on their uniform gave away anything. Ditto had limited knowledge on any armed forces in Coruscant outside the white armoured troops of the Empire. He had two guesses, and he didn't like the result of either; it was either an elite troop of the Empire, come to claim the device that he harboured instead of the rogue soldier, or Spook Eye had finished screwing around with him. One way or another, he was no doubt an unintended prisoner of one of his foes. He hoped to pick up something from the other soldiers; banter, mostly, but their steady breathing was the only indication of life.
The van stopped, forcing Ditto to dig his flat boots into the floor and tense his legs. The side door slid open and the troops clambered out, leaving Ditto and one other soldier left in the van. He looked at Ditto expectantly as he bent down to grasp Diesel's arm. Ditto fought back a 'tch,' strapped the rifle to his back, and slung Diesel's other arm over his shoulder. The extra weight set Ditto's teeth together as he struggled to move the behemoth out of the van without succumbing to the pressure, nor exposing a lack of discipline and strength inherent in these black ops soldiers.
As Ditto planted his foot on the sidewalk, he gazed up at the building the troops were entering. It was the same building that Ditto had stolen Cyborg's communicator from, and the last time Tor had helped him before turning his back on Team Rocket. The building stretched a few stories into the sky, sunlight glistening on the dusty windows. A trash can had collapsed and spilled its contents over the alleyway on the right. It looked like any other craphole apartment block on Tier 5. Hiding in plain sight was obviously a mantra for this Spook Eye.
So Spook Eye had found Team Rocket's hideout. As Ditto hauled Diesel's limp body up the short flight of stairs and through the door, he pondered how the rival gang boss had discovered his warehouse. The obvious answer was Enigma and Skaggs, but it seemed like a fast retaliation for what had transpired between them. He had expected a reprisal from Spook Eye eventually, but something seemed off about the swift execution.
Ditto and his assistant dragged Diesel past the watchman who had given Ditto pause when he had tried to infiltrate as Cyborg. This time he didn't even glance up from his magazine. Judging by the scantily clad human woman on the front cover, his attention was captive no matter what happened in front of him. Ditto gave him a sharp, hard glare to satisfy the itchy anger in his gut and moved on.
They came to the three sets of doors again. 'Storage' on the left, nothing on the centre door, and 'Basement' on the right. Reading Ditto's partner's movements, they were heading to the basement. Ditto opened the door with a free hand, quickly slapping it back on Diesel's imposing arm, and gingerly lowered the gang member down the winding staircase.
The fluorescent lights above flickered, casting a gross amalgamation of their shadows that flashed and hid with each tick. The tiled floor gritted beneath Ditto's boots, with streaks of dirt and blood criss-crossing in equal measure. He parted his lips and breathed through his mouth to avoid the coppery, musky odour that suffocated the air.
Ditto and the other soldier staggered down the room, passing a row of steel barred cages on either side of them. Most were empty, though none were clean. The soldier stopped at the end and swivelled to face an open cage. Ditto followed his lead and hurled Diesel into it, his bulky body crashing onto the tiles with an audible thump. He stayed still. How hard had they hit Diesel to keep him unconscious this long?
The soldier swung the cage door closed, the hinge protesting the entire way. It clicked into place, and the soldier shook the bars to ensure the door remained shut. He turned Ditto once he was done.
"That's done. Let's head back out."
Ditto nodded curtly. "Lead the way."
They strode out of the cage-lined corridor and headed towards the staircase. Ditto curled his fingers into a fist. He didn't want to leave his final asset locked in a dungeon in the custody of his greatest enemy. What if they tortured him? What if he gave up his secrets? Not to mention he hated leaving such untapped potential, potential that could be better utilised in Team Rocket. Ditto stole a glance over his shoulder. He had to think of some plan to get him out.
Ditto's shin hooked on something as he stepped forward and he found himself hurtling towards the floor. He threw out his palms, but his cheek slapped the tiles with enough force to bounce his head. The muscles in his forehead pulled taut as the bewilderment retreated from his mind. He looked over his shoulder to find his foot caught over the soldier's shin, and the barrel of his own rifle pointed directly at the back of his head.
"What are you doing?" Ditto cried out.
The soldier narrowed his eyes. "You aren't one of us."
He flipped the rifle and slammed the butt into Ditto's face.
![[Image: jimsig.jpg]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/07/jimsig.jpg)