asker

callsign-stalker asked: "Is that blood? No, wait, its canine...oh, guess thats where the Eraser went...god DAMN Ride, how'd you get him up there?"

maximumspeedride:

callsign-stalker:

iamaleviathan:

"You really underestimate me? I’m offended." She smirked, hands on her hips. "Who are you anyways?"

"Hey, that phones expensive!" He griped, picking it up. 
"Not like anyone was gonna see it anyway, its just going in my scrapbook of crash pictures…"
And Itex was spending oodles of dough…to capture THIS girl. 
How strange. Then again…Itex was Itex.

"I don’t care," Max shrugged. "Not my issue." She stretched, beginning to walk away from the man. "Seeya Stalker," she yawned.

"Apperently not…hold it."
He paused in picking up his phone. 
"You smell that?"
No…probably not…2% bird, not 2% dog…
'I don't think this guys alone.”
Made sense. Itex deployed Erasers in 2 to 4 man teams, usually with vehicle backup. 
So here was one…

asker

callsign-stalker asked: "Is that blood? No, wait, its canine...oh, guess thats where the Eraser went...god DAMN Ride, how'd you get him up there?"

maximumspeedride:

callsign-stalker:

iamaleviathan:

"You really underestimate me? I’m offended." She smirked, hands on her hips. "Who are you anyways?"

"Nothing, actually. As far as they care, you don’t exist. Officially anyway. Neither does the Flock, and certainly not the Erasers, or anything else Itex made…too much of a philosophical/political conundrum. I’m here on personal business…mainly, I wanted to see how damn badly you beat that Eraser. Like I said…I hate Itex as much as you"

He looked up again and whistled. 
"And THAT is one for the scrap book…"
He drew his phone from his pocket and took a picture. 

Max just rolled her eyes, swatting the phone out of his hands when he tried to take a picture. “Don’t do that! We get enough unwanted attention as it is, I don’t need your shitty pictures on top of it.”

"Hey, that phones expensive!" He griped, picking it up. 
"Not like anyone was gonna see it anyway, its just going in my scrapbook of crash pictures…"
And Itex was spending oodles of dough…to capture THIS girl. 
How strange. Then again…Itex was Itex.

Your muse finds my muse curled up on the bed, crying. Send “Hush” for a 1-35 generated response to why.

asker

callsign-stalker asked: "Is that blood? No, wait, its canine...oh, guess thats where the Eraser went...god DAMN Ride, how'd you get him up there?"

maximumspeedride:

callsign-stalker:

iamaleviathan:

"You really underestimate me? I’m offended." She smirked, hands on her hips. "Who are you anyways?"

The pilot chuckled and tapped his right shoulder. The patch on it contained the winged star of the U.S. Air Force. 

"Better question…how do you not know that we know? You’re not exactly SUBTLE when you deal with problems, Maximum."

Max scowled, features darkening. “I see,” she grumbled, placing her hands on her hips. “What would the Air Force like with me?”

"Nothing, actually. As far as they care, you don’t exist. Officially anyway. Neither does the Flock, and certainly not the Erasers, or anything else Itex made…too much of a philosophical/political conundrum. I’m here on personal business…mainly, I wanted to see how damn badly you beat that Eraser. Like I said…I hate Itex as much as you"
He looked up again and whistled. 
"And THAT is one for the scrap book…"
He drew his phone from his pocket and took a picture. 

asker

callsign-stalker asked: "Is that blood? No, wait, its canine...oh, guess thats where the Eraser went...god DAMN Ride, how'd you get him up there?"

maximumspeedride:

callsign-stalker:

iamaleviathan:

"You really underestimate me? I’m offended." She smirked, hands on her hips. "Who are you anyways?"

"Since I heard bones breaking and metal bending. I was actually out getting some Jeremia Weed and a sandwich at the corner store…"

Sure enough, a shot bottle of pilots prefered burbon rested in his thigh-pocket. 

Max nodded. She wasn’t exactly quiet while taking down the Eraser. “Still…how do you know me?”

The pilot chuckled and tapped his right shoulder. The patch on it contained the winged star of the U.S. Air Force. 
"Better question…how do you not know that we know? You’re not exactly SUBTLE when you deal with problems, Maximum."

reblog if you want anonymous opinions of you.

asker

callsign-stalker asked: "Is that blood? No, wait, its canine...oh, guess thats where the Eraser went...god DAMN Ride, how'd you get him up there?"

maximumspeedride:

callsign-stalker:

iamaleviathan:

"You really underestimate me? I’m offended." She smirked, hands on her hips. "Who are you anyways?"

"It isn’t underestimation if this is a first occasion…and thats certainly the first time I’ve seen an Eraser hung by his own tail…"
He realized she’s asked for his identity. 
"Just someone who hates Itex as much as you…you can call me Stalker."

"Stalker," she repeated. "Fitting for how much you seem to know about me." It was tempting to simply pin the man to the tree and demand information, but she decided to try some restraint. "Well then, Stalker. How long have you been watching?"

"Since I heard bones breaking and metal bending. I was actually out getting some Jeremia Weed and a sandwich at the corner store…"
Sure enough, a shot bottle of pilots prefered burbon rested in his thigh-pocket. 

asker

callsign-stalker asked: "Is that blood? No, wait, its canine...oh, guess thats where the Eraser went...god DAMN Ride, how'd you get him up there?"

iamaleviathan:

"You really underestimate me? I’m offended." She smirked, hands on her hips. "Who are you anyways?"

"It isn’t underestimation if this is a first occasion…and thats certainly the first time I’ve seen an Eraser hung by his own tail…"
He realized she’s asked for his identity. 
"Just someone who hates Itex as much as you…you can call me Stalker."

asker

withpurewhitewings asked: "I meant like flying, Stalker." she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh. Yeah. No wings remember?"

"Oh DAMN…I know this song! Its Dos Gringos…"
The pilot grinned, turning the car radio up. 
"Oh, I wish I had a gun just like the A-10…"
His voice sounded like someone tearing a piece of shrapnel from the fuel tank of a jet fighter.