ODSP

One would think that a night of nefarious deeds would have been dark and stormy, or at the very least have lightning flashing and dancing among dark clouds on the horizon bringing the promise of a storm. And if Michael Winters could control the weather he would have made it so. It would have been an improvement, hell almost anything would be, compared to the humidity rich evening being endured by the city and its occupants. Yet here he was, on a rooftop reclining against galvanised ductwork and among the fans and motors for the buildings air conditioner unit, all because a man was going to die tonight. Michael raised the scope to his eye, sea

   Tobias McAvoy slammed his head against his revision notes, the notebook being the only source of padding on his hard ironbark desk top.  In his mind fragments of physics and chemistry lectures, mathematic exercises, historical studies and geographic reports formed a chaotic maelstrom of thought which made it near impossible for him to prepare for the exam scheduled in two days. Wearily, he turned his head to one side and groaned as his eyes, failing to find sanctuary, fell on the schematics of the MK IV Vulcan class combat mech he was training to pilot which he had pinned to the wall for easy and quick reference. On the desk below the mech