I have some random hobbies. One is designing houses. They’re not exactly architecturally sound, but I find the process relaxing. This is my latest design. A couple of things to note are first that no windows are indicated but there would be a lot of them (skylights too) and second the middle courtyard has glass …
It’s digitize an old sketch day! This is from a page where I played around with shapes – namely a bent rectangular head on various figures.
Another page sample, Vix sitting at the bottom of the canyon known as the Place of Tall Rocks.
Dude. 5 paintings tonight. Only two left to do for Chapter 1! So many hoodoos…
After a short discussion about what the difference was between a Derby hat and a Bowler hat, I looked it up. Apparently, they’re the same thing, except a Derby is American and a Bowler is British. Either way, they are great fun (as depicted below).
Shading practice, monster style.
Sullivan shielded her eyes as they slowly adjusted to the midday sun. All around her crowds were streaming into the terminal, flying off to romantic getaways and business opportunities. Davis had told her a car would be there to pick her up. She took a moment to rifle through the small purse she brought. Her fingers guided her over familiar objects until she reached her plum-colored goal. She casually touched up her lipstick as she scanned the road for the appropriate vehicle.
A man standing in front of a black stretch limousine held up a placard with the name Nicole Masters. She hadn’t used that alias in years and from what she could recall, that name had a bad reputation. Apparently Davis thought enough time had passed. At least he made up for it in style; the limo was a nice touch.
The driver tipped his hat to her as she slipped into the back seat. There was something off about him, something in his lopsided grin and thin moustache. Davis was the most trustworthy person she knew and scrutinized over every person in his employ. Still, perhaps it would be worth keeping her guard up until this character proved himself to her. As she settled in, Sullivan noticed the champagne was her favorite brand. The corner of her lip pulled wryly to one side. Davis had been reading up on her again? He should know by now that she wouldn’t be swayed by these personal touches. Their fling had been just that and nothing more. She didn’t mind him trying, though.
She poured herself a glass and watched the countryside expand out to the horizon. It was going to be a long trip. Sullivan closed her eyes and focused on the meeting ahead of her. Some very important allies were threatening to cut all ties. She was brought in to stop them, either through incentives or coercion. The blueprints of her meeting place stood out clearly in her mind. If things went south, which they usually did, she would need to calculate her exits. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed the driver had taken a route close to the bay. She had studied the maps of the area as a part of her preparation. At this time of day, the bay route was slower by far. Why would he choose…?
The window between the driver’s area and her own opened. Good. It would be easier to sort this out face to face. She flattened the hem of her shirt and cleared her throat. She noticed that her mouth was becoming unusually dry. Leaning forward brought on a vertigo-like unsteadiness. Glancing back at the champagne, she knew she’d been drugged. The long, silenced barrel of a gun aimed through the little window at her head. “End of the road, miss.” Sullivan looked up at the driver through hazy eyes. Her reactions were dulled, but she could handle this. The driver squeezed the trigger as Sullivan ducked and rolled. The bullet grazed her shoulder, lodging into the seat behind her.
In an instant she wrenched the gun from his hand, immobilized his arm at the elbow, and threatened the driver with his own weapon. All the while, the limousine was approaching the long bridge spanning over the deep cerulean waters of the bay.
“Who’s behind this?”
The driver scowled and avoided her gaze. Sullivan dug the barrel of the gun further into the stubbled skin of his neck.
“Let me go and you’ll make it out of this alive. I don’t see any other options for you.”
“No, my choice has already been made.”
The limousine sped faster, passing the other cars in a race to the middle of the bridge. At the push of a button, the front windows cracked open. The wind whistled as the speedometer tapped against its maximum reading. The driver growled out a laugh.
“What will you do? If you shoot me, you risk crashing!”
Without flinching, the driver veered away from the road. They broke through the side barrier and dove into the waters below. The impact caused Sullivan’s head to slam against the wall between her and the driver. What didn’t happen, however, was the deployment of the driver’s airbag. The vehicle had been modified to ensure the driver didn’t walk away from his mission.
The limousine bobbed for a second before the engine-heavy front started sinking below the waves. Open windows welcomed the incoming water. Sullivan dropped the gun and climbed back to her seat to open her door while it was still above water. It was no use. The doors and windows had been locked.
She dropped back to the tiny window and tried to reach the controls, only to be blocked by the driver’s dead weight. Once again she eyed the champagne bottle. She grabbed it quickly and smashed it against one of the windows. The experiment ended in failure. The bottle shattered, spilling the drugged beverage. Whoever had designed this death trap had made the windows bulletproof from the inside.
Her options were decreasing with every soaked second. The water had reached her ankles. Her mind raced as she thought of ways out. Her attempted murderers were clever when it came to the vehicle’s shell, but had they thought about the dividing wall? She stomped at the edges of the tiny window, hoping to widen it enough to where she could wriggle her way through. No such luck. The cold liquid continued bubbling up and was now at her knees. She looked up toward the back seat she had been in minutes ago. Now there was an idea.
She snatched her purse floating nearby. Her favorite knife was nestled at the bottom. If she could carve her way through to the trunk, she might be able to break out of this mess. Still somewhat bleary from the drink, she propped herself up against the sidebar and started attacking the seat cushions. Little bits of fluff littered the surface of the miniature lake growing inside the limousine. Sullivan continued furiously slashing away until she reached the hard plastic separating the seat from the trunk.
Stabbing through to the other side produced new ripples of water entering the back seat. So, the trunk wasn’t watertight. That could be a good sign. Sullivan was running out of time and air. By the point that the hole was big enough to fit her frame, the water was at her eye level. The saltwater stung in her still-bleeding shoulder. As swiftly as she could, she squeezed through into the vehicle’s trunk and started working at the lock from the inside. The cold waters of the bay had a much easier time reaching the trunk than she had.
Despite getting ahead for a few seconds, Sullivan was soon underwater. She popped up in the highest corner of the trunk and took in as much air as she could before returning to her desperate work on the lock. The champagne had made her lightheaded to begin with and holding her breath only made her more so. She could hear the lock cracking inside and pressed harder. She was almost there. She wanted to laugh in victory, before her knife’s blade suddenly snapped in two. The section left in her hand wasn’t small enough to fit into the lock and the smaller point was drifting down past her.
She sucked in the last pocket of air that she could find and dove after it. Her fingertips barely caught the edge as it fell through the hole she had made. She plucked the blade from its descent and returned to the trunk. By now the air was gone. Whatever she had in her lungs would have to do until she could escape.
Sullivan shook off the thought of breathing as best she could. Her vision was growing dim and shadowy around the edges. She would only have one more shot at this. The blade was shaking in her hand as she dug and pried away.
* * *
On the shore of the bay, a slender figure watched from beneath a sprawling shade tree. White patent leather shoes reflected the sun shining through the leaves. The figure turned to the gloved man standing nearby and smiled with bright gleaming teeth. “Do make sure the job’s done this time?” The gloved man nodded solemnly and stalked away. The slender figure turned again to the bay. Several police cars were arriving on the bridge, but it would be far too late by now. The last bubbles rose up from the fallen vehicle and troublesome Sullivan would finally be silenced.
As requested, there is now a spherret and a raccone to go along with my squarrel. Oh, and it’s a bit of a stretch (say it with an accent and it makes sense), but there’s a cuboid too. Geometranimals galore. The spherret may think the cuboid is some kind of flying candy.