Who is the Biggest fictional BAMF - Page 18

excerpt from NetForce: Night Moves, written by Steve Perry
      Mikhayl Ruzhyo squinted into the desert sun. Although he was relatively fair-skinned, he had tanned since he'd moved here, and now he was the color of good holster leather, lines etched into his face, veins prominent on his bare arms. The days were not as hot here in Nevada as they would be in a couple of months, and the nights were still chilly, but it was warm enough out. He stood in front of the small Airstream trailer he had purchased and towed to the five-acre plot of sand and scrub weed he had also bought, feeling the hot wind play over him. He was more or less alone. [...]
      He was grateful for the solitude. Since retiring from wetwork, he'd had few occasions to even talk to people, much less have to kill them. He had money banked he could retrieve as needed, using a computer card. Once a week or so, he drove almost two hours into town and bought his supplies in one of several large supermarkets where he was totally anonymous; he did not chat with the clerks when he checked out. [...]
      Ruzhyo had paid cash for his car, a Dodge SUV, used but not too old, and had done the same for the trailer, both of which he had purchased through classified ads in a Las Vegas newspaper. The land he had acquired using one of the safe names he held, and, to avoid arousing undue interest, had given a substantial down payment to the seller and paid monthly notes from the same account since, automatically deducted on the first of each month. His profile could hardly be any lower.
      The trailer had a generator and batteries, even air-conditioning, but he used the cooler rarely. He relished the heat.
      He could not say he was happy--he had not been happy since the cancer had claimed Anna, and he did not ever expect to be so again--but he could say he was content. His life was simple, his needs few. The biggest project on his agenda was building a natural stone wall along the perimeter of his property. It might take ten years, but that hardly mattered.
      Or he had been content, until today. As he scanned the rock terrain, the dust and heat-hazed hills in the distance, he knew something was wrong.
      There were no signs he could see to tell him what the problem was. No helicopters overflew him, no dust clouds betrayed vehicles trying a stealthy approach. He lifted the powerful binoculars and did a slow scan of the surrounding countryside. His five acres was on a rise, slightly higher than most of the surrounding area, and he had a good view. [...]
      He lowered the binoculars. Nothing to be seen, no cause for concern, but in his gut he felt that something was wrong. He headed for the trailer. He had weapons in a flat box hidden under the floor in the bedroom. Perhaps it was time to take them out and keep them handy.
      No. Not yet, he decided. There was nothing at which to shoot. Perhaps the feeling was wrong; perhaps his gut was merely troubled by a badly digested meal or a parasite.
      He gave himself a tight smile. He had not survived as long as he had by entertaining such rationalizations. At his best, he had been like a roach seeing a sudden light in the night. Run first, worry later. It had kept him alive when many others in his profession had died. He had learned to trust it over the years. No, something was wrong. Whatever it was, it would manifest itself sooner or later. Then he would deal with it.
      He went into the trailer.

On August 06 2010 21:51 littlechava wrote:
Omar Little easily:

On August 07 2010 03:07 Rkie wrote:


definitely qualify for something in this thread

On August 07 2010 01:56 Zergneedsfood wrote:


This.

Thad kid is fucking smartest guy in the world.

On August 07 2010 03:47 Stratos_speAr wrote:
Space Marines shit on every other fictional character ever in terms of BAMF-ness. You simply can't compare anyone else to a Space Marine.

Except maybe an Ork, Necron, Eldar, Tyranid...

We'll just go ahead and say 40k is the most BAMF universe ever created.