An Inhuman Condition

Mental Note: NEED TO KEEP WORKING ON THIS!
Sketch art and characters are from my bittery dick of a pal at http://ugisart.com/. He also has these really funny comics for sale at http://futurelandfillpress.bigcartel.com

Inside a small upper suite in a run-down office park between a fortune teller and crooked account, lies the hideout of the Revengirls. The Revengirls are a team of world-traveling assassins including Stubbi, the rambunctious young dual-amputee with her long-barrel Colt .45; the human tank, Third Eye, with deadly blades extending from her arms stronger than steel beams; and their leader N-Brace whose body enhancements turn her into a living tripod for a full-size minigun. By day they bide their time as providers of irregular medical aides for the disabled and disfigured. By night this deadly trio descends on the targets of those willing to pay for their services. The only force great enough to rival their sheer power is the spirit of revenge that binds them together – revenge on the one man who crippled each of them.

The team is gathered around a game of cards in their messy back office. Weapons and tactical gear litter every surface of the office. They pass a big plastic jug of Cheez-Hurlz between them for the sustenance they might need on a difficult mission in the Brazilian jungles or the war-torn deserts of Afghanistan. Their weapons sit on or against the table ready to strike should their short solace be compromised by those determined to stop them. Dice, darts and cards from other games are also strewn across the table’s surface, but the high-stakes, cutthroat game of the night is Crazy Eights. The team gambles with the one thing truly valuable to them: what they get to do with Fidgit when they finally get their hands on him.

“I want to stab his eyes out with a letter opener and feed them to a crow!” Stubbi says, “assuming he still has eyes under those gross band-aids.”

“Bandages,” N-Brace throws a card on the discard pile.

“Band-aids are bandages!” She waves her stump arm at Third Eye. “It’s your turn, eyeborg!”

“Hrrrrmmmp” Third-Eye draws a card from the pile.

“Band-Aid is a brand of bandage along with Ace, Curad, and others. You shouldn’t give brand preference when describing a medical product. Always use the generic term, especially with a client. You wouldn’t want to seem biased, would you?”

“I don’t care about the doctor crap. I just like guns and fighting. I don’t even know why we have this stupid office. It’s not even wheelchair accessible so half our clients can’t get up here.” Stubbs tosses down an eight. “I want hearts!”

“We can’t get a ramp unless we can find other upper-floor tenants to split the cost or want to see our rent go up to first-floor rates. For the thousandth time, nobody wants to split the bill despite it obviously benefiting them as well. Most of that greedy fortune-teller’s clients are half-dead with wheelchairs, walkers and those damn automated scooter chairs. The rent increase is almost double, and the reason we have this office, young lady, is as a cover so our enemies can’t find us.”

“Booooo…” Stubbi groans picking up some darts and throwing them at the dartboard across the room. Two of the three land squarely in the visible eye on the black and white photo of Fidgit they’ve tacked up over it. “…ooooorrrrring!”

That second the red Spitephone rings loud, and the ladies all focus on their attention on the small cordless across the room. N-Brace gets up to answer it. Stubbi jumps up and down with excitement, and Third-Eye lifts her blades in silent anticipation. N-Brace presses the answer button repeatedly while the phone continues to ring making a disappointing beep sound.

“How many times have I said we need to put the Spitephone back on the base after we’re done using it? We’re supposed to be a team of professional, world-class killers, and what will people think if we can’t even charge a cordless phone?”

The answering machine clicks on “You’ve reached the voicemail of the Revengirls. We’re sorry but we can’t make it to the phone right now. Please leave a detailed message with your number, the target’s name and any special way you would like them to die, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. Thanks!” *Beeep*

The familiar sigh of Lord Hat starts the message. “Come to the Vatican. All will be revealed by the mother upon your expedient arrival.” *Click*

N-Brace shakes her head one last time. “Alright, let’s pack and power up the Revenjet! We have a mission in Rome.”

“Revengirls reassemble!”