Okay, I thought of this after reading The Bourne Identity and watching the
second Harry Potter movie, so it's kind of a take-off of the Bourne
Identity. With obvious differences. It shouldn't turn into a parody - I'm
just taking the basic idea of the Bourne Identity and using that in the HP
universe. And if you're thinking of the movie The Bourne Identity, don't.
It massacred the book. Took away the whole point. If you can, read the
book. It's loads better. But don't get me started. Just read!
_________________________________________________________
The Potter Identity
By Sigil
________________
He was cold.
He was tired.
And he was running.
Always running. It seemed he had been running forever. Through the streets, by the shocked passer-bys who gaped for a second before Memory Spells hit them from behind, and down to the docks. Spells whizzed by his head, never hitting him. They were herding him. But where?
The docks. Water. They didn't want him to be found. Turning, Harry Potter lifted his wand, determined to go down fighting. He could stop most of the spells they threw at him. Just as long as they didn't try the Killing Curse.
They didn't. What they did was much more unexpected.
They used guns.
The first bullet buried itself in his chest, and another in his leg. Harry's wand slipped from nerveless fingers as he stumbled back along the dock. He almost managed to stop before wood gave way to water.
Almost.
One last bullet flew from the darkness and struck his head, and Harry lost the battle for balance.
The water rushed up to meet him as sirens screamed in the distance.
________________________________________________________________________
Officer Riley Barton almost flew from his car to the edge of the dock. The shooters were long gone; Squad 2 was chasing them through downtown Boston. Of course, they had saved the worst job for him. He was stuck with the job of finding their victim.
It wasn't hard.
A young man - twenty-four at the oldest - floated face down in the water. Barton flipped him over and lugged him out of the river, not expecting him to be alive. Bullet holes riddled his body, and he was bleeding badly from a scalp wound. He felt for a pulse and sighed with relief.
He was alive. But barely.
The ambulance screamed up behind the cop, and medics streamed out to bear the man away.
Frowning, Barton picked up a small piece of polished wood at the end of the dock where the man had been and jammed it into his pocket. Could be a clue. Or it could be nothing, but he could always throw it away.
Whistling, Barton walked back to his car. This hadn't been a bad night.
-----------
Should I continue? Or was this bad enough that I should quit?
Reviews, please!
_________________________________________________________
The Potter Identity
By Sigil
________________
He was cold.
He was tired.
And he was running.
Always running. It seemed he had been running forever. Through the streets, by the shocked passer-bys who gaped for a second before Memory Spells hit them from behind, and down to the docks. Spells whizzed by his head, never hitting him. They were herding him. But where?
The docks. Water. They didn't want him to be found. Turning, Harry Potter lifted his wand, determined to go down fighting. He could stop most of the spells they threw at him. Just as long as they didn't try the Killing Curse.
They didn't. What they did was much more unexpected.
They used guns.
The first bullet buried itself in his chest, and another in his leg. Harry's wand slipped from nerveless fingers as he stumbled back along the dock. He almost managed to stop before wood gave way to water.
Almost.
One last bullet flew from the darkness and struck his head, and Harry lost the battle for balance.
The water rushed up to meet him as sirens screamed in the distance.
________________________________________________________________________
Officer Riley Barton almost flew from his car to the edge of the dock. The shooters were long gone; Squad 2 was chasing them through downtown Boston. Of course, they had saved the worst job for him. He was stuck with the job of finding their victim.
It wasn't hard.
A young man - twenty-four at the oldest - floated face down in the water. Barton flipped him over and lugged him out of the river, not expecting him to be alive. Bullet holes riddled his body, and he was bleeding badly from a scalp wound. He felt for a pulse and sighed with relief.
He was alive. But barely.
The ambulance screamed up behind the cop, and medics streamed out to bear the man away.
Frowning, Barton picked up a small piece of polished wood at the end of the dock where the man had been and jammed it into his pocket. Could be a clue. Or it could be nothing, but he could always throw it away.
Whistling, Barton walked back to his car. This hadn't been a bad night.
-----------
Should I continue? Or was this bad enough that I should quit?
Reviews, please!