Four ~ Armageddon's Humble Beggining
"Shit...I hate this job..." Sanchez breathed, peeling his gun belt off, tossing it onto his couch, seizing a note on the coffee table, and flipping the television on.
News Anchor:
"Muslim extremists," Paul? is this right?! whispered the anchor in disbelief, covering his mic and addressing the man at the teleprompter, who nodded yes. "e-evidently under orders from Russian President, and recent Islam Convert, Igor Volkev, have seized Isreal's foreign embassy in Moscow. They have threatened to execute one diplomat every fifteen minutes, if Isreal refuses to remove occupying forces from the West Bank and the-"
Removing his eyes from the news anchor he had only been half watching anyway, mumbling, "More fucking war talk...", Sanchez seized the note his wife had left on the coffee table, scanning it quickly.
"Honey,
Be home a little late. Mom wanted to go shopping with the girls. You'll have to fend for yourself as far as dinner is concerned.
Love you!"
"Figures..." Mumbled Sanchez, switching the set off, getting heavily to his feet and sauntering to the door; intent on checking up on Ivy's condition, and grabbing something for dinner afterward.
Climbing into his cruiser, Sanchez watched benignly as two B-2 Spirit Stealth Bombers, and two F18A Hornets scorched the Arizona skies overhead...
~~**~*~**~~
"My Lord? You wished to speak with us?" Drawled the voice of Lucius Malfoy, waving a hand at the Death Eaters that had just appeared into the living room of Voldemort's home, formerly belonging to the Dark Lord's Muggle father.
"Ahh, Lucius..." Said Voldemort, turning in his high-backed Victorian Style chair to face the other. "Yes Lucius, old friend. Death Eaters, I am afraid we must take refuge in the chambers that this Portkey will deliver us for many months..."
"My Lord, I beg you tell us why?" Asked Bellatrix LeStrange, bowing deeply and stepping forward.
"Ahh, it is a long story Bella..." Replied Voldemort indulgently, getting to his feet. "But one best told far beneath the earth that will have changed drastically by the end of the tale's telling. Haggleton is far too close to London for it to be safe to remain here..."
"Yes My Lord..." Said Bella, bowing deeply again, and rejoining the other Death Eaters.
"Very well..." Voldemort said, indicating a Portkey that had been placed on a table in the center of the room. "We should depart now, faithful Death Eaters. I shall divulge the details for the need of such measures once safely away from here. This plan has required the utmost stealth, but cannot fail..."
With this, the collective group of Voldemort and fifteen of his most loyal Death Eaters, touched a finger to the tarnished silver platter, and instantly transported to a large and dark, yet lavishly refined concrete chamber, far below the earth's surface...
~~**~*~**~~
"HARRY POTTER!" Bellowed the voice of his uncle Vernon, as he absentmindedly stroked Hedwig's feathers, as she sat hooting softly in his lap.
"Now what..." Harry mumbled, placing an indignant looking Hedwig back into her cage. "I know, I know...He can't have heard you. He probably just wants to unload on me for something he just made up. It's been a couple days, you know? I daresay he's missed doing it for long..."
With a hoot of understanding, and a playful nip of his finger, Harry turned from Hedwig's cage, trudging down the stairs as if he were headed to the gallows...
"Yes?" Harry asked sneeringly, spotting his uncle sitting in his favorite chair next the phone. "What is it I've done now?"
"Don't take that tone with me boy!" His uncle retorted, with his face adopting a violent plum color. "One of your freaky friends is on the phone! How many times must I tell you to not let them call here?!" He roared.
"I have told them!" Harry bellowed defiantly, seizing the phone. "Still scared of Mad-Eye-Moody, are you?" He said silkily, delighting as Vernon's face drained of color instantly.
"Ahh.. That would be it then?" He quipped, then directed his voice at the receiver. "Hello?"
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked into the phone, clearly panic stricken. "Harry turn on the Muggle news! Harry it's starting!"
"What's starting Hermione?" Harry asked apprehensively, turning his gaze to the television.
"Another false alarm..." His Uncle Vernon chortled. "Any reason to raise our taxes even higher. I wonder how many chaps they had to hire from Hollywood to pull this off?"
With one quick glance at the television, Harry dropped the phone, and it clattered to the floor.
On the television, an ICBM impact countdown was given from seven-minutes forty-five seconds. Three missile were said to be en route to the Royal Air Force Staion Lakenheath, situated some twenty five miles from Cambridge, England. Two others were poised to hit downtown London in a little over ten minutes.
"HARRY! HARRY!" Came the muffled and terrified voice of Hermione. "Grab what you can in the next three minutes, then apparate to my house... Dad has a fallout shelter! The Weasleys are here... Oh Harry...Please hurry!"
Tearing his eyes away from the screen, he rushed up the stairs, threw stray clothing and his broom into his trunk, seized Hedwig's cage, and pounded down the stairs as air-raid sirens began to squeal.
"Don't tell me you believe this rubbish?" Quizzed his uncle, who, besides Harry, was the only one home; his Aunt Petunia and Dudley were shopping.
"Yes I do!" Harry said breathlessly. "This is something that Voldemort might try to make happen..."
"Hogwash!" Vernon scoffed. "Another ploy to raise taxes it is!"
'How ironic...' Thought Harry bemusedly. 'A Muggle if ever there was one, yet he sees magic before he'll recognize something completely Muggle...'
"Good bye, Uncle Vernon..." Said Harry sadly. "I don't expect we'll be seeing each other again..."
With a loud pop that startled his uncle, Harry disapparated for the first time since receiving his license, appearing in the Granger's living room, as the countdown's completion loomed...
Dateline:
August 13, 2004
19:32:41 P.M. Greenwich Mean Time
Peterson Air Force Base - NORAD Command Center
Cheyenne Mountain
Colorado Springs, CO
"Wilson, prepare to authenticate..." Barked General Mack Dawson.
"Sir!" Wilson replied smartly, cracking the red launch code card next to his terminal, and quickly reciting the code: "1A893HRCDD7T31Q5J"
"Authentication confirmed..." General Dawson said heavily, removing the launch from his neck, and swiftly moving over to Wilson's terminal. "Insert launch key."
"On my mark..." He said, wiping the perspiration from his brow with a trembling left hand. "Three...Two... God, please forgive us...One...MARK..."
~~**~*~**~~
"Time's up! Time's up!" Said the stranger in the movie theatre, clapping his hands delightedly, fidgeting in his seat. "Can't stop it now! Time's up!"
Chip continued to stare at the hand which the stranger had touched, and simply did not hear the air raid sirens screaming their warnings. He was also unaware that the stranger had sliced the throat of Pete, and that his fellow theatre employee was now in the throws of death...
"Doing you a favor, Kipper..." The stranger breathed, brandishing the same razor that he had cut Pete's neck with. "I am not completely unmerciful..." He cooed.
"Yeah..." Chip muttered, nodding numbly. "Favor, yeah..."
As the blade cut deeply, and Chip's body began to twitch spasmodically, the stranger began to hum the tune to "All Around the Malberry Bush" once again...
