Hey, what's up guys? Been a while hasn't it? Now I know what you're thinking. "Hey! Where the f&%k have you been?!" Truth be told, I've been very busy with school, (high school is very time consuming) been staring in numerous plays, (both school, and town productions) and co-writing a screenplay with my best friend. It's been tons of fun honestly, and it makes me feel productive (albeit very tired). But I've really never gotten the time to write some good old fashion fan fiction nowadays. So I found some free time, and… here you go. I know it's not much, but I still got a Thanksgiving weekend to write some more chapters. So stay tuned!
Beginnings
Near city limits of London, it is a cold and harsh night. The sounds of the city, a dog barking, a car alarm going off, and a police siren blaring, are all in the distance. A car speeds along a lonely street. It could barely be heard, aside from the sound of the wheels turning along the gravel road. It comes to a steady stop next to a one story warehouse, near an abandoned train yard. The lights emanating from the front of the car douse, and the rhythm of the engine stops.
The door opens, and out of the car steps a tall man. He is lanky and pale, even in the night his white skin can be seen. He darts his head back and forth, nervously, as if someone is watching him. He is wearing a trench coat, with a nametag, reading, Jon Briggs. He smoothes back his messy, sandy-blonde hair, and closes the door to the car.
He quickly sprints to the door of the warehouse. When he reaches the door, he pulls out a very large keychain. As he fumbles through an excessive amount of keys, he looks behind, his pale blue eyes dart from left to right. He finds the key, and opens the door. Inside is complete blackness, he enters. Jon turns and closes the door behind him, and locks it.
His erratic, nervous, breathing slows down. He turns and walks toward a faint silhouette of a chair and table. He sits, pulls a small laptop from his coat, and sets it down. He opens it, it starts up, its pale light fills the room, and illuminates Jon's anxious face. He begins typing in an erratic fashion, often mistyping, and backspacing to correct the mistakes. Tonight was a very important night, with the responsibility of success, on Jon's shoulders. If he fails tonight, the whole plan could be ruined. He finally opens up a chat room on the computer, he begins typing.
Hermes: I have returned, the mission was successful.
Jon stops typing and waits. The wait is long and unbearable. After 45 seconds, which seamed like hours, a response sound bleeped, and a new line of text was brought up.
Ombra: You have it then?
Jon types quickly, slightly relived, but still tense.
Hermes: Yes, I have the data.
Jon stopped and waited. Then, another response.
Ombra: Show it to me.
Jon upon seeing the response, fumbled through his trench coat, until he found a small flash drive. He opened it, and plugged it into the computer. After a couple of seconds and small window popped up, revealing thousands of codes, speeding upward at a very fast rate. The window closed. Another response.
Ombra: Good, now destroy it.
Jon removed the flash drive from the computer, and snapped it in half. He returned to the laptop and typed.
Hermes: It is done.
Jon leaned back, and waited.
Ombra: Well done, your efforts have been most useful for our cause.
Hermes: Thank you master.
Ombra: When our objective is complete, your name will be remembered throughout history.
Hermes: I am most honored, gracious one.
Ombra: But there is a problem.
Hermes: What is it?
Ombra: The police know of your location, and they are on their way.
Suddenly a small window popped up in the left hand corner on the screen. It is of security footage from traffic lights. It shows a squad of police cars speeding through the empty streets. The shot changes to security footage from an outside camera; it shows the same cars traveling down the street.
Jon quickly types on the computer.
Hermes: I will escape.
Ombra: I'm afraid, that's out of the question.
The window cuts to a new camera, viewing the alley with Jon's car. The sound of sires cuts through the night. Jon turns around and looks out the window. Red and blue flashes come around the corner. The alleyway is filled with the cars. Jon is anxious; a film of sweat has covered his young face. This was not supposed to happen, he had lost them completely; how could they have found him again so quickly? Suddenly the response sound brings him back to the computer.
Ombra: You will be caught.
Jon types rapidly on the computer.
Hermes: I will tell them nothing.
The police exit the cars. They pull out their pistols, and begin to inspect Jon's vehicle. One sergeant passes by the car and notices the faint glow of the computer from the warehouse.
"Oy, I think he's in there!" he calls. The other police notice the light too, and they begin to advance. Jon looks back and see's the advancing policemen. His eyes are filled with fear.
This can't be happening! He was supposed to see the plan fulfilled!
Then the sound of a response bleep cuts through the noise, like a scalpel through flesh. Jon slowly looked back at his computer.
Ombra: I am certain.
Suddenly a click rings through the room. Jon recognizes the sound instantly. He has become a loose end; he knows what his master does with loose ends. He jumps up from his chair. Only a quick yell can pass through his lips, before the C-4 detonator under the table activates.
The explosion lights up the warehouse. Huge balls of fire rip thorough the building. The cops are flung back from the power of the blast. The sound of the explosion is heard throughout the city, several car alarms go off, and the neighborhood dogs bark angrily. The reeling policemen slowly rise up to face the remains. All that is left is a smoldering pile of concrete. The sergeant pulls of his hat, and wipes his brow. The intense heat was causing him to sweat. The sergeant looks down in defeat. He see's a nearby piece of rubble next to his feet. He kick's it away in anger and mumbles.
"Bloody hell."