50%
100 Theme Challenge #50
By WarriorLoverInc
Dupe burst into the dark room, memory sticks in hand. He and Gem had made it through the Scorpia defenses, but they had split ways a hallway back. Gem wanted to take out some main security systems and distract the adversary, he had insisted that Dupe continue on and download the Intel.
Spinning abruptly as the sounds of shouting guards reached his ears; Dupe slammed the metal door shut and shoved a workbench across the entryway. No one would be entering on his watch, Dupe just hoped Gem didn't have to get in any time soon.
As the sounds of guards receded—they obviously dismissing the main computer server room—Dupe turned to assess his findings. He had followed the memorized map to the letter, and if his memory served him correctly, this was where he would find the information MI6 so desperately wanted.
It was a dim room, lit only by the small screens, lighted buttons, and blinking bulbs connected to the huge computer that dominated the space. Servers like this were expensive and hard to hack, Dupe knew he had little time to waste and so got right to work. His pale hands quickly slid one USB into a socket and danced across the keys.
In record time the numerous passwords were entered, firewalls down, and anti-viral programs disabled. With the precision of a surgeon, Dupe began a complete system download. An empty bar appeared on the screen.
Initiating System Download
0%
Sweat rolled down Dupe's face, the stuffy atmosphere combined with his nerves was doing horrors to his body. His fingers tapped a nervous tattoo on the plastic of the computer desk, carefully avoiding the keys lest he hit something to stop the download.
Twenty minutes into the download, there was a muffled shout outside the door followed by the sound of many feet and a heavy object being lifted. Dupe's heart leapt into his throat as that object was seemingly rammed into the door, they were trying to force their way in!
Initiating System Download
31%
Dupe's silent pleas of haste were ignored by the meticulous machine as it continued the download at a measured pace.
Again, there was bang! as the guards took another shot at the door. The bench jerked violently inwards but still held, it was frighteningly clear time was short.
Dupe focused back on the screen again and witnessed a slightly comforting sight.
Initiating System Download
50%
Pausing the download and ejecting the first USB, he inserted and resumed the process on the second memory stick. Jolting away from the screen, Dupe rushed to the door and pressed his entire weight against it, attempting to keep the door closed long enough for the second download to complete.
Initiating System Download
76%
Cold sweat soaked Dupe's stealth clothes and in his distracted state, he didn't notice a slight let-up of pressure on the door before it was too late.
With a deafening explosion of light and sound the door was ripped off its metal hinges and flew into the room, carrying the workbench along with it. Dupe was thrown to the side of the mini apocalypse, the feeling of burning needles permeating his skin as red-hot metal shrapnel from the doorway sliced through the skin on his torso.
Rising was an enormous effort, but Dupe accomplished it in time to see the figures looming out of the smoky doorway. Dupe gulped and glanced at the screen, praying for a miracle.
System Download Complete
100%
Caring not for the computer or even at this point his own safety (since it was so clearly compromised) Dupe lunged at the machine and snatched the USB out of its socket, quickly slipping it onto a chain and around his neck. The two metal memory sticks clinked together on his chest, half and half reunited. Hopefully just as he and Gem would be shortly.
There was a battle-cry from one of the guards, and Dupe began to fight for his life. Someone aimed a heavy club at his chest. He ducked in time and drove his fist into the attacker's stomach. While they were bent double, he brought his knee into their face with a satisfying crack! of their nose and kicked the guard into the wall.
Electricity hummed through the air next to his ear. Dupe whirled to see a burly man wielding a buzz baton regaining his posture to strike out at the spy again. The pair was obscured momentarily by the lingering smoke, but the moment they appeared again they violently resumed fighting.
White-hot electricity danced across Dupe's arm as he dodged the baton by centimeters, shrapnel wounds screaming in agony as he literally bent over backwards to avoid the weapon. The eyes of the guard widened in surprise as he lost balance and stumbled slightly, he had been expecting the blow to connect. Taking advantage of the guard's clumsiness, Dupe ducked low and swept his legs out from under him, the guards head making a sickening crack as it smashed into the cement floor. He didn't stand again.
Fighting the tide of battle into the hallway, Dupe threw punches left and right, dodged weapons here and there, and kicked with the ferocity of an angered jaguar. Having the advantage of high quality training and experience over the seemingly amateur guards of the Scorpia complex, he soon found himself at the front doors. Glancing left and right, seeing only a few guards rushing to intercept him and no sign of Gem, he burst out of the building. No better way to leave than out the front doors, right?
As he dashed quickly away from the Scorpia HQ, an alarm began to blare throughout the buildings. Not only a moment after he had crested a rise concealing the structure from the world, a window to the left of the front doors crashed outwards, a man sailing through the razor-sharp shards of glass like a fish gliding through water. He hit the ground running, glancing up with forest-green eyes at the rise as though he knew Dupe were there.
Breath whooshed out of Dupe's chest in relief, it was Gem. The blonde was seemingly unfazed by the guards pouring out of the building behind him, nor the fact that someone sensible had finally given them guns. Biting his lip in consternation, Dupe wondered if he should help the fellow agent. Torn between keeping the Intel safe and rescuing a comrade, he found himself childishly thinking, enie menie miney moe…
Shaking his head like a wet dog, he steeled himself, gray hands gripping a rise in the earth before him to push himself to his tired feet. Vaulting the ledge expertly, he ran towards Gem. The agent looked up and an expression of shock adorned his features. To his credit, he never broke stride.
"Stop!" he yelled, waving his hands as a bullet narrowly missed his foot. "Dupe, don't come any closer! There's a—!"
Before Dupe had fully registered what Gem was saying, a shot rang out through the chaos, louder that it should have been. Probably because it wasn't from a handgun. Briefly, Dupe was hoping Gem hadn't been shot, but the look on his comrade's face said it all. Glancing down, he felt pain consume his leg, spearing his foot and climbing upwards to slice through every nerve in his spine.
It took all his discipline not to scream at the bloody sight of his leg and the pain beyond pain of a fresh bullet in his body. He could hear the end of Gem's sentence now, "There's a sniper!"
Dupe almost screamed in shock as he felt someone grab him and tumble him onwards. Lucky for him it was Gem.
"C'mon Dupe," he encouraged, helping him run by allowing the agent to lean on his shoulder, "no time for pain."
Squinting against the agony, Dupe forced his reluctant body to run and remembered his instructor's words. "Never give it your all, that's not enough, give it your one-hundred and fifty percent."
They were cheesy words, yes. But in a time like this, they gave Dupe the strength he needed to keep up with Gem.
…
The cold wind of an oncoming summer squall whistled through the dry grass of the Russian lowland plain, a sweet smell wafting through the air. Somewhere in the midst of the calm natural fields a radio crackled to life.
"Gem to Dupe, in position… over."
The shifting of a coarse material could be heard, then a reply from within the grass, "Dupe to Gem, in position… over."
"Permission to proceed…? over."
A heavy duty walkie-talkie, outfitted with a state of the art scrambler and MI6 GPS was lifted to a pair of colorless lips. "Permission granted."
Somewhere, miles away in the same plane, a tracker device and distress signal was activated. "Dupe" held his breath, not even daring to move, desperately hoping MI6 would get the signal before their pursuers found them. Thunder boomed ominously in the distance as the dark clouds of the looming storm continued rolling across the previously clear blue sky.
A sound in the distance, Dupe strained his ears… there it was again! The distinct swish of chopper blades echoed across the flat expanse of lowland. Letting a heavy sigh of breath escape his lips, Dupe smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages. Prematurely gray hair, equally gray skin and blandly colorless eyes gave Dupe the look of a man who didn't express his happiness often.
The copter began to descend as a distant figure stepped out into an open expanse of grass, waving it down. Their ride was here, they had the USB…
Dupe tensed and threw himself to the left the instant he sensed it, and not a moment too soon. A bullet whistled through the air and buried itself in the ground where he had lain seconds before. Ignoring his throbbing wounds in a way only the most elite can, Dupe began to weave his way towards the helicopter as the angry shouts of their pursuers chased his hurried steps.
The figure that had helped the copter land had turned as the first bullet's sound reached his ears, now he waved frantically, trying to urge his comrade on and reach safety faster. SAS men hustled out of the copter behind him and began to open fire on the enemy closing in.
In the heat of the battle, Dupe's mouth was dry, neck tingling, injuries twingeing painfully as he moved, ears ringing as the bullets whizzed nearby. The smell of damp air, mud—and now the tang of blood—permeated his nose. He was close now; the copter was so tantalizingly close. Then, he did the stupidest thing of which he'd berate himself for time and time again.
He tripped.
Dupe swore fluently as he tumbled down a small hill, painfully rolling over his damages as he fell. At the bottom, he was too winded to clamber up and continue running.
Weak, the demon in his mind ridiculed, you're too weak, too slow, you'll fail this mission for sure. You can't help anyone. Not even yourself, you'll be killed for sure.
His breathing hitched as a pair of strong arms clasped his middle and hauled him over the person's shoulder.
"Where would you be without me?" the person sighed in mock exasperation.
Dupe sighed shakily in relief; it was the figure that had activated the signal (risking his life greatly as it could be tracked by anyone) and flagged down the helicopter. It was his comrade in arms and beloved twin brother, codename Gem.
He was almost the exact opposite of his brother, always happy and bouncy, not cold and reserved. Shaggy white-blonde hair adorned his healthy face pink with exertion. All this framed his beautiful green eyes hidden behind long lashes. He had a lean body that was taught like a rubber band when needed, and seducing when he wanted to be. Ladies man was an understatement.
"Thanks, Gem." He breathlessly thanked his brother.
All he got in reply was a sharp nod. As they reached the copter, the SAS men began trooping back into the vehicle, firing shots over their shoulders as they went to cover the Agents' retreat. Dupe lifted his head wearily as he was bounced along, then his eyes widened in surprised dread. It seemed as though their pursuers had sent a whole battalion of their highly trained troops, and none of them looked like they were going to stop charging any time soon.
Gem hefted him roughly into the copter, foregoing all sense of caution in favor of haste. Dupe lay on the cold hard metal floor, head facing the open door, too exhausted to move. And it was from this limp position he experienced some of the most traumatizing moments of his life.
Gem had turned and was about to follow everyone else into the helicopter when he jerked foreword suddenly, as if pushed harshly from behind. Dupe's gray eyes widened at the sight of his brother's form falling to the ground as the chopper-blades began to gain speed. Peering fearfully over the edge of the copter door, he saw Gem lying painfully still on the ground.
Dupe reached a hand out, he brushed the back of his brother's neck, finger hooking around his necklace. "Gem…" he croaked.
His brother coughed, a scarlet stain spreading along his upper back. Feebly, he turned his head to eye Dupe out of the corner of his green orbs. "Alan…" he pleaded, "help me…"
Dupe wanted to get up, wanted to help his brother, he needed to! But… he couldn't. He had no more strength left. Quite clearly, he recalled the bullet in his leg, the lacerations cutting deep along his torso, and the bruise forming dangerously close to a killer pressure point. With super-human effort, he pulled himself closer to the edge, closer to his brother, and clenched his hand dimly around Gem's necklace.
Why weren't any of the SAS helping him? Why couldn't he help him?
Weak, the demon jeered again, I was right. You are weak.
And suddenly, he felt the copter lift off the ground, felt a bullet hitting the hull of the escape vehicle, felt himself becoming more distant from his brother. In desperation, he held the chain necklace tighter, as if he could pull his brother up with him if only the necklace would stay within his grasp. Dimly, he heard shouts, but his gaze was stolen by the captivating crimson stain spreading over his brother's motionless form.
Then, like the Fates cutting the Thread of Life, the chain snapped as the copter rose too high for Gem's body to follow. Dupe stared horrified at the necklace in his hand, on it was knotted the USB with the information their mission was to retrieve. He had Gem's half of the Intel, but not his brother.
"Anthony!" he called as the copter kept rising higher and higher. Gem's—or Anthony's—form stayed unmoving, not responding as he was overtaken by their pursuers.
Two hours later found Dupe—or Alan—huddled in a corner of the copter, wrapped in a rough blanket the medic had issued him after a hasty examination and patch-up job. They were flying back to an MI6 checkpoint to deliver his Intel. "Job before self" they always say.
Alan was traumatized to say the least, in pain, and they had just left his brother behind! His other half, his twin, his only surviving family. He clutched the necklace to his heart as tears fought to spill over his eyes. In that dark corner of the world, Alan made a decision that would change his life forever.
Anything to defeat Scorpia.
And if that meant no more relationships, so be it. He was cold already; he had only to become more detached.
"Scorpia never forgives, Scorpia never forgets."
Well, neither does Alan Blunt.
He would forever be fifty percent.