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We'll do a little frog giggin', cow tippin'
How 'bout a little skinny dippin', bass fishin'
Take it easy on the 'shine
And stay away from other boys' women
That's one damn good way for a
man to get it whooped down here
These boys tough down here
Get your ass tore up down here
And be an all nighter with the hippies and the hicks
Jocks and bikers, they all came
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The realization that they were treading through the home base of the leech was not lost on Ruger, either. It wasn't enough to make him ill at ease--after all, he had walked through plenty worse in his day--but he was not reckless enough to take the idea lightly, either. While he was confident in his abilities and those of Blue and his new found companion, he also knew that it would not be well to underestimate even a common leech. The creatures were opportunistic and Ruger knew quite well that if they gave this one an inch, he would go for a mile. And that mile could cost a life.
Ruger handled his muscled weight with an eerie quietness, even on the littered floor. It was a skill he had acquired as a young boy, stalking squirrels and partridge through the woods. There had been times when his success on the hunt determined whether he would eat or not. This made him diligent as a child, and he learned to put himself on the other side of the spectrum...made him put his mind with the animal. Made him think like the animal would think...and then use it to his advantage. Being at war had been no different. His ability to move silently had, for a year, meant the difference between life and death. Hunting leeches was no different. He knew their senses were far superior to his, and he made every effort to distribute his weight evenly on the shards of broken glass to keep them from crunching beneath the tread of his boots.
He looked at Polly, giving a slight shrug of his sinewed shoulders. "Ain't no thing. 25 pounds can slow a body down. 'Specially when that body can't weight more than a buck oh five." Ruger told her with a light smirk, indicating her small stature with a nod of his head. Not that Ruger had any doubts about her ability to handle the burden of extra weight...anyone could tell that the woman was fit as hell. But in a pinch, sometimes the difference between success and failure could very well be only a couple of pounds. Ruger stepped around her, peering up into the dimness at the splintered wood and plaster. His brow furrowed in concentration as he bent to look at a pile of wood, noting the dry texture and clean breaks in what used to serve as steps. The case had not been standing long ago, if Ruger had to wager. The inner wood was newly exposed...he could tell from the stark paleness of it against the aged and weathered outer surfaces that had been exposed to time and elements. "Naw, no water damage. Don't think it was elements at all. Reckon' he's just 'bout outta his mind with hurt, Tumbleweed. Them stairs had help comin down." Ruger stated softly, rising to his feet and turning his gaze to her.
Blue cocked his head as she moved into a crouch, a little growl rumbling in his throat. "Sugar what..." Ruger started, but in the next instant she was moving just as lithe as a lioness, lunging through the air. His breath hitched as he realized her trajectory was off, and in the next millisecond he was moving, too. Moving to try to compensate for her misjudgement...to throw himself beneath her if that was what it took to break her fall. He braced for impact...but it never came. Ruger's widened gaze shifted up, watching as she dangled from the plank above. "Resourceful little thing, ain't ya?" His husky voice carried up through the darkness. "Bet your ass I didn't like that. Little warnin' next time sure would be nice. Ticker damn near stopped." And while his tone was light, there was a hint of seriousness to it, as well. Though he didn't know it in that moment, the cause for his seriousness was because he had been concerned for her. And that was a helluva thing for a guy like Ruger.
Ruger diverted his gaze when he was warned, looking down to Blue, who was slowly sniffing his way down the hallway. He knew the dog wouldn't go far, that he was just scouting. When he turned back to the sound of Polly's voice, he was greeted with the white blue glow of light. The picture before him was jarring at best. Polly was standing on a ledge that looked no more stable than a thin sheet of ice, suspended over a bed of jagged and splinted wood that promised certain death or at the very least severe maiming should the whole works decide to crumble. "Jesus woman!" He all but growled, sounding alarmed as he instinctively tried to position himself beneath her. As if that would save her, somehow. "Why don't you just get on up on a better ledge and let me work out how to get on up there. Got my head all outta sorts worryin' on you makin' a kabob outta yourself."
Ruger stepped back, looking at the ledge with a critical eye. "Naw, sugar...seems to me, if he done took the time to take this down in all his pain, might be there's a good reason behind it. Best if we keep headin' on up this way." He slipped his knife out of his pocket, and switched the gleaming blade open with his thumb. He then pushed his sleeve up, and sliced something from around his wrist. "Better get yourself up a ledge or two there woman. Don't think it's gonna hold up to my heavy hide up there with ya." Ruger folded his knife and put it back in his pocket, before quickly beginning to unravel the item he had removed from his wrist. It was a paracord bracelet...and not the common type sold in just about every gas station in te country, either. It was military issue, and while it was thin, Ruger knew from experience it would be able to hold his weight. "Blue, you be a good boy and keep watch, ya hear?" He called softly to the dog, who's eyes glittered reflectively in the darkness as he stared silently at him.
Ruger waited for Polly to get to a safer position before beginning to tie the thin paracord around his waist and under his hips. He ties his knots swiftly but efficiently, a finely honed military skill. He then peered up into the darkness, eying the bannister. It had a couple of decorative rails still intact where it connected with the staircase, and that is where Ruger set his mark. It took two tries, but he managed to get the cord looped through. There wasn't much slack, but he attached the other end of the cord to his belt loop with three efficient knots.
"Alright. Let's see if I remember how to do this." He grumbled to himself, before wrapping his roughened hands around the rope. His muscles strained as he rappelled up the cord, but his progress was steady. A few mild curses escaped him as the cord bit into his flesh once he was off the ground, but the alternative of being speared alive did not seem particularly appealing. When he finally reached the ledge, there was a fine sheet of sweat on his brow, and his hands were leaking a light sheen of blood. He reached out and grabbed hold of the ledge with one hand, then the other...but the lubrication of blood caused his grip to slip.
For a horrible second, he had a vision of his impaled corpse...but then, he caught himself with his right hand. "Fuck." He snarled, using one last burst of strength to haul himself up onto the ledge. It groaned beneath his weight, but in that moment, he didn't care. He grunted as he sat up, wiping his hands on his shirt to rid himself of the tackiness of his own life force. He then worked his way out of the ropes, cutting the cord away with a few quick flicks of his knife. Rising cautiously, he peered up at Polly. "Give a green beret a bracelet, he can climb a mountain." He told her with a smirk. "We best get movin', sugar...'fore you're peelin me off the sticks down there."
A faint rumbling noise came from up above, and Ruger's blue gaze slitted as dust began to sift from the rafters above. The staircase whined and groaned, and Ruger swiftly climbed to the next ledge just as the wood of the last crumbled away. Another loud crumbling sounded from somewhere up above, as if a brick wall had suddenly been leveled. "Let's get the fuck off this thing, woman! Sounds like he's got Satan himself up there, and I got words to say with the red devil himself."
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Our side of the barbed wire
Money grows in rows
If it don't you're goin' broke
So we
We hang out by the bonfire
Just the good ol' boys having a dang good time
We crank it up down here
We get loud down her
Throwin' down in the dirty, dirty south down here
Be an all nighter with the hippies and the hicks
Jocks and bikers, they all came to kick it in the
sticks
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