55.076 – Operation Save My Place

[RonCo]

The Whole Series So Far:

55.001 - In a Dungeon, Deep in the Basilica
55.005 - The First Visit
55.009 – A Conversation With Camacho
55.026 – In An Apartment, Somewhere in Sacramento Valley
55.036 - Deep in the Heart of the Basilica
55.037 - At Night, in he Darkest Catacombs of the Basilica Front Office
55.052 - A Clash of Wills
55.057 – Don't Worry Your Pretty Little Head
55.074 – They Want a Lot of Money
55.076 – Operation Save My Place


The green-eyed woman gave a contented sigh, straightening up from the figure that lay on her stainless-steel worktable and wiping her hands of the bloody leavings of her work. There was more than one way to skin a muskrat, she thought, recalling a night several years back when she stood at the edge of the land this temple was built upon, and extracted the initial cures of Camacho.

Though Camacho had come back, She had come a long way since then.

Far enough that she knew that, even after fixing this current little problem Camacho was so stressed about, she was going to have to take care of the sniveling idiot for good sometime sooner than later. A little Camacho went a long way, and where he’d been useful steering Shoeless, and had equal utility in getting rid of Stallings, he was turning into an impediment when it came to Collins. The problem, of course, was that he was getting too big for his britches. Started thinking she wanted him in the actual GM’s seat.

What a disaster that would be.

The man had the mental power of a nematode (remember, Louisville fans, that’s a worm) and the same ability to withstand pressure that a dusted donut did.

Camacho was, for example, so worried Collins was going to fiddle so deeply into this baseball field’s configuration that it would unearth her secret labs. And so worried that that woman, Hellscape, was going to help him avoid the powers of the technology she’d given him. The fear wasn’t wrong, so much as misused. It was true that if Collins got what his plans had said he wanted, that bad things would happen. But it was also true that direct confrontation was not going to be any better. If nothing else, putting Collins into the same deep-freeze Camacho had worked to put the earlier guy into…what was his name .. Jessie, something… whatever. Anyway, putting Collins away like that would bring the full force of Hellscape to bear on the problem. And that was bad. Better to play the game Eastern style. Use your opponent’s momentum against them. That’s why she’d let the woman go earlier, and that’s why she’d left the electronic security system cracked open to let Hellscape find the key that turned off Camacho’s influence.

The assistant GM was flummoxed by it all, of course.

Because he was dense as a rock.

She turned back to the form of the councilman laying on the table. He’d been an easy lure, too. Two drinks at the Happy Hour bar. A bottle of wine at dinner. Then an invitation to her place. Her gaze took in the laboratory, and she smiled. She did so love her place. The scar across his forehead would heal in an hour, then he cold go home. When he woke, he’d remember the night distantly. Probably tell his buddies about bagging a hot young girl.

Whatever.

All that mattered was that afterward, when he finished reviewing Dyer’s request for a building permit, and for city funding, that he approved it with a few conditions. A few modifications, as it were. Cuts to the bigger plans that would require total tear-ups. Adjustments to the idea of the seats that the Mad Popes owner seemed to love so much. In the end, she thought, it would be a win-win-win-win.

Hellscape got her sense of justice by saving Collins. Collins got a few mods to help him fiddle with his offense. Dyer got his personalized sections.

And the green-eyed woman got to keep her place.

She smiled.

Unfortunately, that left Carlos Camacho as the only loser.
Shame, she thought, wiping her hands clean and calling in the transporter cart that would take the councilman back to his car.

A real shame.

[trmmilwwi]

Almost as bad as getting a building permit in Chicago.