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Well, seeing as people seem to like stories I've had a go, It's probably rubbish, and pretty cliche filled, but what the hey....
*********************************************************
“I…..” His voice trailed off as he coughed violently, and then regained his composure.
“I, I have…” His voice faltered again as he repressed the urge to cough, “to tell you…set the record straight..before…”.
The man lay back in the bed and rested his back against the pile of pillows. His right hand rose from his side and went to take hold of the cup of water on the bedside table. The woman sitting by him held it for him, waited whilst his wizened fingers grasped it in their unsure grip. He held the cup to his lips and drank a small amount, growling deeply to clear his throat. His tired looking blue eyes which had once held so much promise in them fixed on those of the woman by his side.
“You must understand that there was no way we could have known, no one told us, you must understand….” His voice trailed off as his head rested further back onto the pillows and his vision fixed on the smooth white ceiling, and the silhouette of his head made by the table lamp, the only light in the room.
“Please, sir, continue” she said softly, a hand stroking back her unkempt long blonde hair. His lips opened, let out a long breath, “We, that is me and the other four, were in charge on the installation. We thought it was a pretty easy assignment I can tell you, Miss.” A grim smile crossed his face.
“It was five past midnight, don’t know why I remember the time exactly, strange that….anyway Roberts was on guard duty, rest of us in the rec area playing a bit of five card poker.” He paused, knowing what would come next.
“It was illegal for you and your people to be doing that, sir.”
His head swivelled to one side to look at her again,
“Knowing what you know, what you told me about London…you think that’s important now?” His eyes strained to read her security card clipped to her shirt pocket, “Lieutenant Commander Drayton”. Drayton did not reply, the lights suddenly flickered off and came back.
“We were playing one last hand, when the alarm suddenly sounds. We figured it was someone messing, but anyway I checked with Roberts over the internal comms. He didn’t pick up.”
“Was Roberts reliable?”
“Ma’am, we spend six months a year stuck in one of the most un-hospitable parts of the country there is, safe in the knowledge that we’re sitting on some of the deadliest things man ever created, and that only five people in the country know where we are.” The man muttered something under his breath.
Drayton tried to look reassuring, she held his hand in the gloved one of hers, “Please…”
“I knew something was wrong right then, sure we all made a bit of fun up there, but not like that. I gathered the rest of my people up, told them what I knew. We went straight to the armoury, kitted up in full tactical gear and I sent Privates Delaney and Christens to check Robert’s post. Me and the rest of us made straight for containment.”
He paused again, replaying it in his mind.
“Something was waiting for us as we crossed the compound, the first volley took out half of us, sent everyone sprawling. I looked up, at the same time Delaney came over the radio net, she was hurt and Christens was gone, as I blacked out I saw people moving to containment.”
“You remember nothing else ?” she asked softly. The man looked at her intently, noticing the dark black roots of her hair beneath the light blonde. Her hair looked…unreal. “No.”
“Lieutenant Iser, sir, those who attacked you broke into containment, they have one device, we need the codes you have to activate the failsafe charge on the case they took.”
Iser seemed startled as she watched him, hoping… “Don’t you have them, I thought Whitehall would….or the MOD?”
“We cannot get them fast enough, we need yours” she made her voice sound urgent, “now”.
“Okay, I’ll tell you”
She listened, and then hurried from the room. Iser closed his eyes, praying she would be in time.
‘Lieutenant Commander Drayton’ stepped out into the murky early morning, silently closing the portacabin door. She looked across to her right, at the mist rising from the Thames.
“Varla!” She turned to see a man dressed in thick black padded jacket run towards her, stop to catch his breath. “You have it ?”
“Yes, he never suspected.” She told him. The man took a mobile from his jacket pocket, called someone and relayed the word.
“It is not long now, there is still time Varla, if you wish we could make it.”
“No, Steven is willing to die for this, we must also not flee, but witness the magnificence of this act” Her voice rang with conviction. She and the man watched as another poured petroleum into the portacabin and set it alight.
The phone rang and the Black Cab driver pulled over, parked on a double yellow, on Oxford Street. “I understand”. He switched on his hazard warning lights, got out of the cad and opened the bonnet, pretended to inspect it and made a show of shaking his head. He went to the boot of the cab. A silver suitcase lay alone. His fingers danced over the keyboard, a red light turned green. He picked up a small toolbox, shut the boot, and returned to the open bonnet. As he did so he couldn’t help notice the jogger coming down the street, she looked about 20, wore close fitting sports shorts and her hair shimmered as her pony tail went from side to side. The sun was rising through the mist, he turned to the bonnet, looked at his watch, the jogger was passing by. Steven thought how this would change the country, wiping out nearly 1 million people and forcing the government to stop helping the other infidels in the West kill his people with sanctions, mercenaries and bombs that reigned from the sky. They would listen after this.
She saw his head duck under the bonnet.
Thirty seconds.
Her right hand went behind her back, pulled an object from inside the waistband.
He heard the click…then nothing.
“Target down, target down, get the god-damn disposal team here ASAP, I’m moving to locate the device” The jogger fired two more shots into the lifeless body as she passed it and checked the back seat. “It’s not here” she shouted into the headset.
The Prime Minister looked out of the window of the Queens Flight as it touched down at Birmingham airport. He sighed, cursing himself, “Do it”.
MI6 Agent Lauren Brooker never realised she had been shot, the sniper bullet pierced her skull and caused immediate brain death. Her body collapsed in front of the open boot of the cab as blood spilled onto the road.
Zero. A white flash.
The Prime Minister looked across at the man facing him. “Satisfied, Sydney ?”
“Yes sir, the images we brought to your attention have been destroyed, you’re leadership is safe.”
“You blackmailed me, MI5 blackmailed me for what I did thirty years ago, and you did this ? Let London be devastated, So much more…..”
“Yes, the outrage this will cause will give our, sorry, your administration carte blanche to do whatever you want to fight this war, to tackle terrorism, and we can of course extend that to include the Irish problem, and the far-right groups. We’ve disposed of those we allowed to do this, and have made sure there is enough evidence to link them to Al Qaeda, and Iran, as well as elements of other groups. We’ll take them all out, and do so without the public criticising us along the way. A million people dead gives us a lot of leeway, sir”
*********************************************************
“I…..” His voice trailed off as he coughed violently, and then regained his composure.
“I, I have…” His voice faltered again as he repressed the urge to cough, “to tell you…set the record straight..before…”.
The man lay back in the bed and rested his back against the pile of pillows. His right hand rose from his side and went to take hold of the cup of water on the bedside table. The woman sitting by him held it for him, waited whilst his wizened fingers grasped it in their unsure grip. He held the cup to his lips and drank a small amount, growling deeply to clear his throat. His tired looking blue eyes which had once held so much promise in them fixed on those of the woman by his side.
“You must understand that there was no way we could have known, no one told us, you must understand….” His voice trailed off as his head rested further back onto the pillows and his vision fixed on the smooth white ceiling, and the silhouette of his head made by the table lamp, the only light in the room.
“Please, sir, continue” she said softly, a hand stroking back her unkempt long blonde hair. His lips opened, let out a long breath, “We, that is me and the other four, were in charge on the installation. We thought it was a pretty easy assignment I can tell you, Miss.” A grim smile crossed his face.
“It was five past midnight, don’t know why I remember the time exactly, strange that….anyway Roberts was on guard duty, rest of us in the rec area playing a bit of five card poker.” He paused, knowing what would come next.
“It was illegal for you and your people to be doing that, sir.”
His head swivelled to one side to look at her again,
“Knowing what you know, what you told me about London…you think that’s important now?” His eyes strained to read her security card clipped to her shirt pocket, “Lieutenant Commander Drayton”. Drayton did not reply, the lights suddenly flickered off and came back.
“We were playing one last hand, when the alarm suddenly sounds. We figured it was someone messing, but anyway I checked with Roberts over the internal comms. He didn’t pick up.”
“Was Roberts reliable?”
“Ma’am, we spend six months a year stuck in one of the most un-hospitable parts of the country there is, safe in the knowledge that we’re sitting on some of the deadliest things man ever created, and that only five people in the country know where we are.” The man muttered something under his breath.
Drayton tried to look reassuring, she held his hand in the gloved one of hers, “Please…”
“I knew something was wrong right then, sure we all made a bit of fun up there, but not like that. I gathered the rest of my people up, told them what I knew. We went straight to the armoury, kitted up in full tactical gear and I sent Privates Delaney and Christens to check Robert’s post. Me and the rest of us made straight for containment.”
He paused again, replaying it in his mind.
“Something was waiting for us as we crossed the compound, the first volley took out half of us, sent everyone sprawling. I looked up, at the same time Delaney came over the radio net, she was hurt and Christens was gone, as I blacked out I saw people moving to containment.”
“You remember nothing else ?” she asked softly. The man looked at her intently, noticing the dark black roots of her hair beneath the light blonde. Her hair looked…unreal. “No.”
“Lieutenant Iser, sir, those who attacked you broke into containment, they have one device, we need the codes you have to activate the failsafe charge on the case they took.”
Iser seemed startled as she watched him, hoping… “Don’t you have them, I thought Whitehall would….or the MOD?”
“We cannot get them fast enough, we need yours” she made her voice sound urgent, “now”.
“Okay, I’ll tell you”
She listened, and then hurried from the room. Iser closed his eyes, praying she would be in time.
‘Lieutenant Commander Drayton’ stepped out into the murky early morning, silently closing the portacabin door. She looked across to her right, at the mist rising from the Thames.
“Varla!” She turned to see a man dressed in thick black padded jacket run towards her, stop to catch his breath. “You have it ?”
“Yes, he never suspected.” She told him. The man took a mobile from his jacket pocket, called someone and relayed the word.
“It is not long now, there is still time Varla, if you wish we could make it.”
“No, Steven is willing to die for this, we must also not flee, but witness the magnificence of this act” Her voice rang with conviction. She and the man watched as another poured petroleum into the portacabin and set it alight.
The phone rang and the Black Cab driver pulled over, parked on a double yellow, on Oxford Street. “I understand”. He switched on his hazard warning lights, got out of the cad and opened the bonnet, pretended to inspect it and made a show of shaking his head. He went to the boot of the cab. A silver suitcase lay alone. His fingers danced over the keyboard, a red light turned green. He picked up a small toolbox, shut the boot, and returned to the open bonnet. As he did so he couldn’t help notice the jogger coming down the street, she looked about 20, wore close fitting sports shorts and her hair shimmered as her pony tail went from side to side. The sun was rising through the mist, he turned to the bonnet, looked at his watch, the jogger was passing by. Steven thought how this would change the country, wiping out nearly 1 million people and forcing the government to stop helping the other infidels in the West kill his people with sanctions, mercenaries and bombs that reigned from the sky. They would listen after this.
She saw his head duck under the bonnet.
Thirty seconds.
Her right hand went behind her back, pulled an object from inside the waistband.
He heard the click…then nothing.
“Target down, target down, get the god-damn disposal team here ASAP, I’m moving to locate the device” The jogger fired two more shots into the lifeless body as she passed it and checked the back seat. “It’s not here” she shouted into the headset.
The Prime Minister looked out of the window of the Queens Flight as it touched down at Birmingham airport. He sighed, cursing himself, “Do it”.
MI6 Agent Lauren Brooker never realised she had been shot, the sniper bullet pierced her skull and caused immediate brain death. Her body collapsed in front of the open boot of the cab as blood spilled onto the road.
Zero. A white flash.
The Prime Minister looked across at the man facing him. “Satisfied, Sydney ?”
“Yes sir, the images we brought to your attention have been destroyed, you’re leadership is safe.”
“You blackmailed me, MI5 blackmailed me for what I did thirty years ago, and you did this ? Let London be devastated, So much more…..”
“Yes, the outrage this will cause will give our, sorry, your administration carte blanche to do whatever you want to fight this war, to tackle terrorism, and we can of course extend that to include the Irish problem, and the far-right groups. We’ve disposed of those we allowed to do this, and have made sure there is enough evidence to link them to Al Qaeda, and Iran, as well as elements of other groups. We’ll take them all out, and do so without the public criticising us along the way. A million people dead gives us a lot of leeway, sir”
Bazzman™ wrote:
> WWW.PARAGRAPHS.COM
How original...did you get idea after seeing the three previous posts mentioning lack of paragraphs ? *claps slowly*
> WWW.PARAGRAPHS.COM
How original...did you get idea after seeing the three previous posts mentioning lack of paragraphs ? *claps slowly*
WWW.PARAGRAPHS.COM
Note to self...don't just cut and paste from Word documents.....
Sorry about the paragraphs !
Sorry about the paragraphs !
It's early in the morning, I'm bog-eyed, and there's a lot of speech in there to take in, but I thought that was pretty good. Maybe a few more spaced paragraphs next time.
Not spacing out the paragraphs will really discourage people from reading, by the way.
Well, seeing as people seem to like stories I've had a go, It's probably rubbish, and pretty cliche filled, but what the hey....
*********************************************************
“I…..” His voice trailed off as he coughed violently, and then regained his composure.
“I, I have…” His voice faltered again as he repressed the urge to cough, “to tell you…set the record straight..before…”.
The man lay back in the bed and rested his back against the pile of pillows. His right hand rose from his side and went to take hold of the cup of water on the bedside table. The woman sitting by him held it for him, waited whilst his wizened fingers grasped it in their unsure grip. He held the cup to his lips and drank a small amount, growling deeply to clear his throat. His tired looking blue eyes which had once held so much promise in them fixed on those of the woman by his side.
“You must understand that there was no way we could have known, no one told us, you must understand….” His voice trailed off as his head rested further back onto the pillows and his vision fixed on the smooth white ceiling, and the silhouette of his head made by the table lamp, the only light in the room.
“Please, sir, continue” she said softly, a hand stroking back her unkempt long blonde hair. His lips opened, let out a long breath, “We, that is me and the other four, were in charge on the installation. We thought it was a pretty easy assignment I can tell you, Miss.” A grim smile crossed his face.
“It was five past midnight, don’t know why I remember the time exactly, strange that….anyway Roberts was on guard duty, rest of us in the rec area playing a bit of five card poker.” He paused, knowing what would come next.
“It was illegal for you and your people to be doing that, sir.”
His head swivelled to one side to look at her again,
“Knowing what you know, what you told me about London…you think that’s important now?” His eyes strained to read her security card clipped to her shirt pocket, “Lieutenant Commander Drayton”. Drayton did not reply, the lights suddenly flickered off and came back.
“We were playing one last hand, when the alarm suddenly sounds. We figured it was someone messing, but anyway I checked with Roberts over the internal comms. He didn’t pick up.”
“Was Roberts reliable?”
“Ma’am, we spend six months a year stuck in one of the most un-hospitable parts of the country there is, safe in the knowledge that we’re sitting on some of the deadliest things man ever created, and that only five people in the country know where we are.” The man muttered something under his breath.
Drayton tried to look reassuring, she held his hand in the gloved one of hers, “Please…”
“I knew something was wrong right then, sure we all made a bit of fun up there, but not like that. I gathered the rest of my people up, told them what I knew. We went straight to the armoury, kitted up in full tactical gear and I sent Privates Delaney and Christens to check Robert’s post. Me and the rest of us made straight for containment.”
He paused again, replaying it in his mind.
“Something was waiting for us as we crossed the compound, the first volley took out half of us, sent everyone sprawling. I looked up, at the same time Delaney came over the radio net, she was hurt and Christens was gone, as I blacked out I saw people moving to containment.”
“You remember nothing else ?” she asked softly. The man looked at her intently, noticing the dark black roots of her hair beneath the light blonde. Her hair looked…unreal. “No.”
“Lieutenant Iser, sir, those who attacked you broke into containment, they have one device, we need the codes you have to activate the failsafe charge on the case they took.”
Iser seemed startled as she watched him, hoping… “Don’t you have them, I thought Whitehall would….or the MOD?”
“We cannot get them fast enough, we need yours” she made her voice sound urgent, “now”.
“Okay, I’ll tell you”
She listened, and then hurried from the room. Iser closed his eyes, praying she would be in time.
‘Lieutenant Commander Drayton’ stepped out into the murky early morning, silently closing the portacabin door. She looked across to her right, at the mist rising from the Thames.
“Varla!” She turned to see a man dressed in thick black padded jacket run towards her, stop to catch his breath. “You have it ?”
“Yes, he never suspected.” She told him. The man took a mobile from his jacket pocket, called someone and relayed the word.
“It is not long now, there is still time Varla, if you wish we could make it.”
“No, Steven is willing to die for this, we must also not flee, but witness the magnificence of this act” Her voice rang with conviction. She and the man watched as another poured petroleum into the portacabin and set it alight.
The phone rang and the Black Cab driver pulled over, parked on a double yellow, on Oxford Street. “I understand”. He switched on his hazard warning lights, got out of the cad and opened the bonnet, pretended to inspect it and made a show of shaking his head. He went to the boot of the cab. A silver suitcase lay alone. His fingers danced over the keyboard, a red light turned green. He picked up a small toolbox, shut the boot, and returned to the open bonnet. As he did so he couldn’t help notice the jogger coming down the street, she looked about 20, wore close fitting sports shorts and her hair shimmered as her pony tail went from side to side. The sun was rising through the mist, he turned to the bonnet, looked at his watch, the jogger was passing by. Steven thought how this would change the country, wiping out nearly 1 million people and forcing the government to stop helping the other infidels in the West kill his people with sanctions, mercenaries and bombs that reigned from the sky. They would listen after this.
She saw his head duck under the bonnet.
Thirty seconds.
Her right hand went behind her back, pulled an object from inside the waistband.
He heard the click…then nothing.
“Target down, target down, get the god-damn disposal team here ASAP, I’m moving to locate the device” The jogger fired two more shots into the lifeless body as she passed it and checked the back seat. “It’s not here” she shouted into the headset.
The Prime Minister looked out of the window of the Queens Flight as it touched down at Birmingham airport. He sighed, cursing himself, “Do it”.
MI6 Agent Lauren Brooker never realised she had been shot, the sniper bullet pierced her skull and caused immediate brain death. Her body collapsed in front of the open boot of the cab as blood spilled onto the road.
Zero. A white flash.
The Prime Minister looked across at the man facing him. “Satisfied, Sydney ?”
“Yes sir, the images we brought to your attention have been destroyed, you’re leadership is safe.”
“You blackmailed me, MI5 blackmailed me for what I did thirty years ago, and you did this ? Let London be devastated, So much more…..”
“Yes, the outrage this will cause will give our, sorry, your administration carte blanche to do whatever you want to fight this war, to tackle terrorism, and we can of course extend that to include the Irish problem, and the far-right groups. We’ve disposed of those we allowed to do this, and have made sure there is enough evidence to link them to Al Qaeda, and Iran, as well as elements of other groups. We’ll take them all out, and do so without the public criticising us along the way. A million people dead gives us a lot of leeway, sir”
*********************************************************
“I…..” His voice trailed off as he coughed violently, and then regained his composure.
“I, I have…” His voice faltered again as he repressed the urge to cough, “to tell you…set the record straight..before…”.
The man lay back in the bed and rested his back against the pile of pillows. His right hand rose from his side and went to take hold of the cup of water on the bedside table. The woman sitting by him held it for him, waited whilst his wizened fingers grasped it in their unsure grip. He held the cup to his lips and drank a small amount, growling deeply to clear his throat. His tired looking blue eyes which had once held so much promise in them fixed on those of the woman by his side.
“You must understand that there was no way we could have known, no one told us, you must understand….” His voice trailed off as his head rested further back onto the pillows and his vision fixed on the smooth white ceiling, and the silhouette of his head made by the table lamp, the only light in the room.
“Please, sir, continue” she said softly, a hand stroking back her unkempt long blonde hair. His lips opened, let out a long breath, “We, that is me and the other four, were in charge on the installation. We thought it was a pretty easy assignment I can tell you, Miss.” A grim smile crossed his face.
“It was five past midnight, don’t know why I remember the time exactly, strange that….anyway Roberts was on guard duty, rest of us in the rec area playing a bit of five card poker.” He paused, knowing what would come next.
“It was illegal for you and your people to be doing that, sir.”
His head swivelled to one side to look at her again,
“Knowing what you know, what you told me about London…you think that’s important now?” His eyes strained to read her security card clipped to her shirt pocket, “Lieutenant Commander Drayton”. Drayton did not reply, the lights suddenly flickered off and came back.
“We were playing one last hand, when the alarm suddenly sounds. We figured it was someone messing, but anyway I checked with Roberts over the internal comms. He didn’t pick up.”
“Was Roberts reliable?”
“Ma’am, we spend six months a year stuck in one of the most un-hospitable parts of the country there is, safe in the knowledge that we’re sitting on some of the deadliest things man ever created, and that only five people in the country know where we are.” The man muttered something under his breath.
Drayton tried to look reassuring, she held his hand in the gloved one of hers, “Please…”
“I knew something was wrong right then, sure we all made a bit of fun up there, but not like that. I gathered the rest of my people up, told them what I knew. We went straight to the armoury, kitted up in full tactical gear and I sent Privates Delaney and Christens to check Robert’s post. Me and the rest of us made straight for containment.”
He paused again, replaying it in his mind.
“Something was waiting for us as we crossed the compound, the first volley took out half of us, sent everyone sprawling. I looked up, at the same time Delaney came over the radio net, she was hurt and Christens was gone, as I blacked out I saw people moving to containment.”
“You remember nothing else ?” she asked softly. The man looked at her intently, noticing the dark black roots of her hair beneath the light blonde. Her hair looked…unreal. “No.”
“Lieutenant Iser, sir, those who attacked you broke into containment, they have one device, we need the codes you have to activate the failsafe charge on the case they took.”
Iser seemed startled as she watched him, hoping… “Don’t you have them, I thought Whitehall would….or the MOD?”
“We cannot get them fast enough, we need yours” she made her voice sound urgent, “now”.
“Okay, I’ll tell you”
She listened, and then hurried from the room. Iser closed his eyes, praying she would be in time.
‘Lieutenant Commander Drayton’ stepped out into the murky early morning, silently closing the portacabin door. She looked across to her right, at the mist rising from the Thames.
“Varla!” She turned to see a man dressed in thick black padded jacket run towards her, stop to catch his breath. “You have it ?”
“Yes, he never suspected.” She told him. The man took a mobile from his jacket pocket, called someone and relayed the word.
“It is not long now, there is still time Varla, if you wish we could make it.”
“No, Steven is willing to die for this, we must also not flee, but witness the magnificence of this act” Her voice rang with conviction. She and the man watched as another poured petroleum into the portacabin and set it alight.
The phone rang and the Black Cab driver pulled over, parked on a double yellow, on Oxford Street. “I understand”. He switched on his hazard warning lights, got out of the cad and opened the bonnet, pretended to inspect it and made a show of shaking his head. He went to the boot of the cab. A silver suitcase lay alone. His fingers danced over the keyboard, a red light turned green. He picked up a small toolbox, shut the boot, and returned to the open bonnet. As he did so he couldn’t help notice the jogger coming down the street, she looked about 20, wore close fitting sports shorts and her hair shimmered as her pony tail went from side to side. The sun was rising through the mist, he turned to the bonnet, looked at his watch, the jogger was passing by. Steven thought how this would change the country, wiping out nearly 1 million people and forcing the government to stop helping the other infidels in the West kill his people with sanctions, mercenaries and bombs that reigned from the sky. They would listen after this.
She saw his head duck under the bonnet.
Thirty seconds.
Her right hand went behind her back, pulled an object from inside the waistband.
He heard the click…then nothing.
“Target down, target down, get the god-damn disposal team here ASAP, I’m moving to locate the device” The jogger fired two more shots into the lifeless body as she passed it and checked the back seat. “It’s not here” she shouted into the headset.
The Prime Minister looked out of the window of the Queens Flight as it touched down at Birmingham airport. He sighed, cursing himself, “Do it”.
MI6 Agent Lauren Brooker never realised she had been shot, the sniper bullet pierced her skull and caused immediate brain death. Her body collapsed in front of the open boot of the cab as blood spilled onto the road.
Zero. A white flash.
The Prime Minister looked across at the man facing him. “Satisfied, Sydney ?”
“Yes sir, the images we brought to your attention have been destroyed, you’re leadership is safe.”
“You blackmailed me, MI5 blackmailed me for what I did thirty years ago, and you did this ? Let London be devastated, So much more…..”
“Yes, the outrage this will cause will give our, sorry, your administration carte blanche to do whatever you want to fight this war, to tackle terrorism, and we can of course extend that to include the Irish problem, and the far-right groups. We’ve disposed of those we allowed to do this, and have made sure there is enough evidence to link them to Al Qaeda, and Iran, as well as elements of other groups. We’ll take them all out, and do so without the public criticising us along the way. A million people dead gives us a lot of leeway, sir”