From: akilgour@thinkage.on.ca (Anita Kilgour)
Subject: A guardian Angel
Date: 1 Jul 92 15:06:39 GMT

A story, written to currently parrallel Blackjack's movements, and to
provide me with a place to play with an idea I've been running with (what?
me?  do something for the fun of it??  Never..;-))  And, yes, I have
Jim's permission to do this...

Enjoy, I hope...

Anita
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>He slammed against another crate, the impact jarring the beast off of
>him and throwing it to the ground. The size of a small dog, the thing
>shook its head and leapt at Blackjack again. Devil rat, he thought,
>as he blocked its leap with a forearm, knocking it to the hard
>concrete again. Before it could gather itself for a third attack,
>Blackjack brought a boot heel down on the base of the devil rat's
>skull, hard. He felt the crunch of bone as its spine snapped, and
>held his foot down as the devil rat briefly spasmed, then expired.

<Damn, he's good...damned rat should have ripped out his throat with the
way he was acting.  Hmmm...wonder what the talent is doing in *this* end
of town>

A slender figure, clad in a skinsuit of night blue and an black overcoat,
rose slowly from the doorway she had nestled into for the night.  The coat
was a little tattered, and clean would never be a word to describe it.
She wasn't doing anything wrong, not that the authorities would see it that
way, but checking out why this man had come in here would be a good idea...

>Another rustle behind him and he whirled, his heart a triphammer as
>the adrenalin spurted again from engineered glands. Was that another
>one? The damn things always ran in packs, rare to see just one.
>Slowly, carefully, he stood up straight and began to walk away. She
>wasn't here, his instincts told him. This place was dead, nobody had
>been here in years. And she had mentioned fishermen. The fishing
>wharves were to the south of here.

<DAMN!!  Getting sloppy in my old age.>

Flattened on the ground, trying hard not to smell the rotting carcasses of
the former deziens of this place, Angel hid.  <Should have known better...
haven't eaten in days...getting too sloppy.  What the hell is he looking
for???>

As the man passed, and was far enough away, Angel got up.  Should she follow
him, she might find herself in more than she was expecting.  Or, if the
fates didn't like her that day, she might end up with nothing more than a
come on.

>Jim Gaynor - System Analyst       Internet: gaynor@agvax2.ag.ohio-state.edu
>Ohio State University - ACS/FMS   Phone: Voice 614/292-4338 - FAX 614/292-7443
>ObDiscl:  Everything stated here and above is _my_ opinion.  Mine mine mine!
>ObQuote: "Actually, I just like to say smock.  Smock smock smock"  - Hobbes

--
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"Anita, do you know someone who would have lots of leather and chains..."
	L. Fortin, June 23, 1992