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Daystar's ATS Story

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posted on Jan, 26 2005 @ 11:15 PM
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Andrew's a typical fecking Londoner - can't take his drink ... Must have been on the 'Best Pixyland' again




Excellent start, Daystar. Interesting characters too.




posted on Jan, 27 2005 @ 10:27 AM
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Pisky, you have a picture for everything eh?

Keep 'em commin' Day!



posted on Jan, 27 2005 @ 10:45 AM
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Nice, I love the characters BTW...
keep it up man!



posted on Jan, 27 2005 @ 06:35 PM
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Originally posted by Pisky
Andrew's a typical fecking Londoner - can't take his drink ... Must have been on the 'Best Pixyland' again


I am... mildly offended, pixy, seeing as my family is from the Kings road area originally lol



posted on Jan, 27 2005 @ 07:08 PM
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Originally posted by Daystar
I am... mildly offended, pixy, seeing as my family is from the Kings road area originally lol


Every Londoner should immediately discover the whereabouts of the nearest Cornishman or Irishman and ask him to teach them how to drink



posted on Jan, 29 2005 @ 11:01 PM
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Chapter Seven - The Kill Team

Agent Smith watched the Commander, absorbing the information he was giving out to the agents in the room. Commander Yeates stood facing them, while behind him, a large map of London hung on the wall. On the map were several small dots, scattered at random over the city.
“We have a report from the lab that says the explosive used in the bus was C4,” Yeates said. “Now, there are only so many places in the Metropolitan Command Zone that a criminal may purchase this explosive.”
The Commander paused as the agents nodded their agreement, before continuing, “Gallagher, Patel, you shall take Paul Decker in Brixton. Smith, West, take Viktor Romanov in Tilbury. Brown and Kinsella, you two are watching Leroy Martin’s gang in Tottenham. You will all have tactical backup. Watch them, and if anything happens, take them down.”
The Commander stopped and waited for the agents to nod again. “If you should have to move in,” he continued, “hit them hard. We shouldn’t underestimate these criminals; you don’t get to the top of the criminal ladder without being extremely well armed these days. Dismissed.”
Smith stood up and walked out at a fast pace. Behind him, Agent West was tripping over himself to keep up. Although his face showed little, Smith was somewhat annoyed at Yeates for offloading West onto him. Still, he had his orders, and his mission would be carried out to the best of his abilities.
Or he would die in the attempt.

Daystar stumbled down the stairs, still half asleep. Entering the kitchen, he found almost everyone at breakfast, or drinking coffee.
Wasp looked up at him as he came in and smiled. “Daystar,” he asked, “Do you always sleep in a cement mixer?”
Everyone laughed. “What?” asked Daystar.
“I know you had to sleep on the floor, but come on,” said Alex.
Daystar scowled at them. It was too early in the day for this kind of joviality, especially after getting only a few hours sleep on a rock solid floor, especially after they had spent hours last night planning their mission, and especially since he had spent an hour or so making pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails. He poured himself some coffee and sat down. “You guys are just the pinnacle of comedy,” he said quietly.
“You’re a grumpy bastard in the morning,” Alex retorted.
“Well,” said Shorty. “You would be if you woke up looking like that.”
Daystar gave him an evil look, before turning to Alex. “Al, do you have any more painkillers?”
“Yes. Hurting again?”
“Uh huh.”
“Ok, I’ll sort you out,” Alex said, getting up. She walked over to the first aid kit and pulled a small bottle of pills from inside. She took a couple of the tablets from the bottle, returned to the table and passed them to Daystar.
“Cheers mate,” Daystar said.
“What time do we set out?” Shorty asked, turning to Mo.
“About eleven” Mo replied. “We’ll be picking up our rifles from my place, but bring your sidearms as well.”
Wizard walked into the kitchen. “Right guys, communications are ready,” he said, holding up a radio earpiece and mic. “We’ll each have one of these.”
“Cool!” said Wasp.
“Very nice, Wizard,” said Mo.
Hakan came into the kitchen. “Come on everyone, get ready. You’ll be leaving soon,” he said.
The team members got up from the table, and walked into the living room, which had been transformed into an armoury during the night. Daystar grabbed his Desert Eagle and his spare clips, while Wasp loaded his MP7. At the other side of the room, Shorty was attaching his slide to his arm. It was a crude device, but efficient, allowing his Walther PPK to slide effortlessly down his arm and into his hand. Wizard and Mo watched the three of them, as they almost lovingly tended to their sidearms.
“You guys are sad,” said Mo, grinning. “Why don’t you just make do with one of these?” He picked up a Berretta 92 from the table and passed it to Wizard, then he took one for himself.
“Because I like the power,” said Daystar.
“I like the volume of fire,” replied Wasp.
“I like the element of surprise this gives,” Shorty said.
“So now you know,” continued Daystar.
“So leave us alone,” said Wasp.
“Or else!” finished Shorty.
Hakan picked up Daystar’s rucksack and passed it to him gently. Inside were the pipe bombs they had made last night. Mo picked up the rucksack with the Molotov cocktails, whilst Wizard put the communication equipment into his bag. Shorty put his coat on, and tested the slide, to make sure everything worked as it should.
“I think we’re ready,” said Mo, looking around at his comrades.
“What rifles do we have? Shorty asked.
“G36 for us guys,” said Wasp. “Mo will have a M249.”
“Sweet!”
Alex came into the room holding some trenchcoats. “You had better wear these until you’re in position,” she said, handing them out.
“Great… we get to look like removals men,“ said Daystar.
“Never mind,” said Mo. “Now lets move people!”

Tilbury Docks, England, May 21, 2024

“But why can’t we just arrest him?” West asked.
Agent Smith turned away from the window to look at the rookie agent. “Because,” he said quietly. “Viktor Romanov has friends. Therefore, we must do things the old-fashioned way… for now.” Smith turned away from the younger agent, a look of dissatisfaction hinting on his face. The agent thought of himself as an attack dog, not a babysitter, and this snot-nosed youngster would only hold him back. His devotion knew no bounds, but sometimes, Smith grew annoyed at his superiors. Smith sighed inwardly, and resumed his vigil, watching the compound across the street.
Suddenly, his eyes locked onto two people with assault rifles and body armour, creeping along the compound wall towards the entrance. One was no more than a teenager, the other, a tall, built man in his early twenties.
“Sir? You seeing this?” West asked, looking up from the CCTV screen.
“Quiet!” said Smith sharply.
The two agents watched as the pair outside reached the entrance, and opened fire on the two guards, who dropped instantly.
“All uni…” West began.
“All units, this is Smith. Stand by for further instruction.”
“Sir?”
“Romanov is an annoyance, West, and whoever these people are,” Smith said, gesturing to the three others who had now joined the pair at the gates. “they have already broken more laws than I care to mention. We shall wait, and let them take each other out. Then we shall send in our men to mop up the survivors.”
West looked into the screen again. The attackers were now inside the compound, while across from them, Romanov’s bodyguards began piling out from the warehouse, brandishing AK74s. It was going to be a slaughter.

Daystar dived behind the crates just before the guards opened fire. A rattling sound told him that the bullets had thudded into the other side. He looked across to where the others had been, and saw them ducking behind crates as well. Shorty and Mo were getting ready to follow him, it seemed.
“I’ll cover you guys,” he said into his mic. “Wasp, Wizard, cover them when they’re clear of you.”
“Ok,” said Mo and Wasp at the same time.
Daystar took a deep breath, put his G36 into his shoulder, and popped up from behind the crates. He opened fire on the first target he saw, but missed, shattering the window behind the diving man. He dropped behind the crates again, where Mo and Shorty had joined him.
As the guards returned fire, Daystar’s earpiece crackled. “We’ll cover the gate as planned,” said Wizard, barely audible above the intensifying gunfire. “You guys move towards the warehouse.” Mo replied with a nod, and Wizard and Wasp began to move slowly back along the crates.
Daystar pulled one of the pipe bombs from his rucksack, and fumbled around his pockets looking for his lighter. Beside him, Shorty poked his rifle round the end of the stack of crates, and opened fire. Somewhere on the other side of the yard, someone cried out in pain. Shorty ducked behind the crates again as Romanov’s men returned fire.
Daystar had found his lighter, and lit the fuse. “Pipe!” he yelled into the mic, and threw the pipe bomb with all his might over the top if the crates. It landed next to a car, and exploded shortly afterwards, sending shards of metal into the car, as well as the two guards unfortunate enough to be next to it at the time.
As the blast subsided, Mo lifted the M249 over the top of the crate, and opened fire. The bullets crashed into the guards as they fell back, but when they had reached slightly more secure positions they returned fire with renewed vigour, though taking care not to put themselves in the path of Mo’s machine gun. “Shorty!” he said above the gunfire. “Go forward! We’ll cover!”
“Ok!”
Daystar rose from his cover again and opened fire, as Shorty ran at a crouch to the car parked a few yards in front and to the right of them. Daystar dropped back down, and turned to Mo, who had ducked to avoid the return fire. “Swap guns,” Daystar said.
“What?” asked Mo.
“I’ll use the MG to cover you. You take my rifle, get to where Shorty is, and use the Molotovs.”
“Right!”
They swapped weapons, and Daystar covered Mo as he ran to where Shorty was hiding. Wasp’s voice sounded in everyone’s ears.
“Good idea lads,” he said. “Flush them out with petrol bombs. Me and Wizard will hit ‘em as they fall back. We’re in position…” his transmission was interrupted by Wizard yelling at him. “RPG!” he shouted, shoving Wasp back the way they had come.
From his position, Daystar could see the infamous shape of the rocket protruding from one of the warehouse windows. He had seconds to act. He pulled the M249 up and pulled the trigger, sending a steady stream of bullets into the general area of the RPG. The rocket and its unseen master disappeared from view. “He’s gone guys, move forward. I’ll cover,” he said.
As Wasp and Wizard moved forward again, Mo stood up from behind the car, and threw a Molotov cocktail at the window. The flaming bottle flew through the window and exploded somewhere inside. He ducked quickly again as the guards returned fire.
As they reached they positions again, Wasp and Wizard found someone attempting to flee in one of the cars parked by the warehouse. They prepared to fire, but had to change targets as they came under attack from two guards on the roof. They spent a magazine each on the guards, and turning back to the car, found it approaching them, gathering speed.
Wizard dropped the magazine from his G36, and tried to grab another quickly, his gaze fixed on the approaching car. Wasp however, realised that time was short. He let go of his rifle, letting it swing down to his side, before pulling up his M7 and opening fire. The powerful gun spat death into the car, smashing the windshield, and killing the driver. The car veered away from them, and ploughed into the gatepost. “Nice one,” said Wizard. He reloaded his rifle, and began firing at the warehouse again. Above the gunfire, they heard Daystar yell at them.
“Pipe!” he shouted as he threw the bomb. The resulting blast sent the remaining guards scurrying into the warehouse, from where they resumed firing at their assailants.
Shortly afterwards, an explosion rocked the end of the warehouse, near to where the RPG had been spotted. The roof began to collapse, and smoke began to pour from the windows.
Suddenly, Mo’s voice sounded in everyone’s ears. “Romanov is pulling out!”
“Where?” Daystar yelled, ducking yet another burst of gunfire from the warehouse.
“The pier at the back!”
“Take him out!” Wizard yelled.
Daystar looked up over the top of the crates, and down to where several speedboats sat next to a pier. Romanov was trying to start one of them.
“Shoot him!” Wizard shouted.
Daystar suddenly saw Mo and Shorty running toward the pier. “What the bloody hell?!” he shouted into his mouthpiece. Receiving no answer, he could only watch their progress towards Romanov.
As they drew near, Mo and Shorty saw Romanov begin to pull away from the pier. “Jump!” Mo yelled into Shorty’s ear. They jumped, and landed in the back of the boat. Romanov spun round to meet the intruders as the boat powered away from the pier and into the river. He pulled a Makarov from his jacket, and fired.
Mo fell backwards as the bullet hit him in the chest. Were it not for his body armour, it would have been fatal. As it was, he received only a crack rib from the force of the impact. Still, it hurt like hell.
Shorty looked down at Mo as he lay on the floor grimacing, then looked up at the man who was now pointing the pistol at him.
“Drop your gun,” Romanov shouted over the roaring engine.
Shorty complied, and then raised his hands.

“Wizard! Wasp! Get the hell over here! Some of Romanov’s guys are going after them!” Daystar shouted. He watched as a trio of guards jumped into another boat and sped off after Romanov’s boat.
“We’re coming over. Cover us!”
Daystar opened fire on the burning warehouse again, allowing them to break cover and run towards his position. “We need to get in one of those boats and go after them!” Daystar shouted.
“Let’s move!” replied Wasp. He began moving towards the pier, the others pinning down the remaining guards inside the warehouse. Once he reached a decent firing position, he turned and covered Wizard and Daystar as they followed him.

West looked up at Smith. “Sir! To the rear! Everyone’s pulling out!”
Smith looked away from the burning building, and turned his attention to the trio moving slowly towards the pier. Beyond them, two boats had already left, and were heading out into the river. He swore under his breath, and picked up his radio.
“This is Smith. All units go! All units go!”
Smith turned away from the window and ran out of the room, with West in hot pursuit. They ran down the stairs, out of the fire exit, and into the street. In front of them, the tactical unit ran into the yard, opening fire on the few guards that remained pinned down inside the warehouse.
Smith looked across the yard, and to his dismay, saw the three freedom fighters taking advantage of the situation. They had made a run for it, and were now in one of the boats.
“Follow me!” he shouted, grabbing West and two of the assault team members. They ran at full pelt across the yard, heading for the pier, but they were too late; the boat had left, and was now going after the other two.
Smith watched them for a second, and then looked down at the last boat. “We’re going after them,” he said to nobody in particular. He jumped into the boat, followed by West and the two tactical officers.
As they pulled away from the pier, a deafening explosion shook the ground, as the warehouse exploded into a ball of flame.



posted on Jan, 29 2005 @ 11:05 PM
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And yes, that is ATS's very own AgentSmith



posted on Jan, 30 2005 @ 11:50 AM
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Cheers bud! I'm gonna read it now!!!



posted on Jan, 31 2005 @ 09:55 AM
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Very cool chapter Day!



posted on Feb, 5 2005 @ 02:52 PM
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Nice read Daystar. Keep an eye on that Agent Smith character though, or the story could get out of control.



posted on Feb, 5 2005 @ 05:19 PM
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Very good story.

I agree with Lent, keep an eye on him!



posted on Feb, 6 2005 @ 12:35 PM
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Chapter Eight - Chase Into Exile

Shorty fixed his gaze on the man pointing the gun at him. Romanov glared back, his eyes meeting Shorty’s and holding steady.
“You little bastard!” the Russian shouted over the noise of the boat’s engine. “Your death will be extremely slow and painful!”
Shorty said nothing, but continued his staring competition with Romanov, until something caught his eye on the river ahead. He took his eyes away from the Russian, and looked over the man’s shoulder. Romanov turned to see what his captive was looking at, and saw a container ship sitting in their path. Swearing in a mixture of Russian and English, Romanov turned away from Shorty completely and steered the boat safely away from the ship. Turning back, he found himself peering down the barrel of Shorty’s pistol.
“Oh, shi…” he began, before Shorty pulled the trigger.
Romanov’s head snapped back, before he fell backwards. Shorty moved forward and pushed him over the side. With a splash, Romanov hit the water, and Shorty turned to where Mo was pulling himself into a sitting position.
“Are you alright?” Shorty yelled at him.
“I think my rib’s busted,” Mo replied grimacing. “But don’t worry about me. Just concentrate on driving the boat, Ok?”
“I don’t know how to!” Shorty replied.
“Then learn!”
A sudden burst of gunfire from behind Mo made Shorty look up. Approaching fast was another boat with three of Romanov’s guards on board.
“Oh, bollocks!” Shorty shouted.
“Drive the bloody boat!” replied Mo, reaching for Shorty’s rifle. “I’ll keep them occupied.”
Shorty turned to the boat’s controls, while Mo opened fire on the boat behind them.

Wasp steered the boat out into the river. Beside him, Daystar lifted up the M249, and opened fire on the boat in front of them. The bullets crashed into the water beside his target. Daystar cursed the river, took aim again and fired.
“Be careful you don’t hit our guys!” Wasp shouted at him.
Daystar stopped firing, gave him a thumbs up, and pulled the trigger again.
Wizard looked back as he heard the warehouse explode, and saw another boat following them. Driving the boat was a man in a suit and sunglasses. Wizard shivered. An agent. Wizard tore his gaze away from the man, and saw another agent sitting behind him. Also in the boat were the menacing figures of two police tactical officers.
“We’ve got company!” Wizard informed his comrades. “Two agents and two cops!”
Wasp and Daystar turned to look at the boat that was following them. “Jesus!” Daystar exclaimed.
“Take ‘em out!” shouted Wasp.
“I’m on it!” Wizard leant into his G36 and took aim. Squeezing the trigger, he sent a burst of fire in the direction of the pursuing boat. The tactical officer at of the front of the boat returned fire, but missed. Wizard steadied himself again and fired. He watched through his rifle’s scope as the officer firing at him fell over the side of the boat, clutching what was left of his throat.
At the front, Daystar was coaxing his gun’s line of fire onto the Russian’s boat. As the bullets hit the side of the boat, one of the guards turned from firing at Shorty and Mo, and fired back at him. Daystar swung the machine gun across, and cut the Russian down in a hail of bullets. The bullets that missed the falling body flew over the other two guards, who had ducked, and smashed through their boat’s windshield.

“Daystar, Wasp and Wizard are behind us!” yelled Mo. “They’re hitting Romanov’s guys!”
“Good!” shouted Shorty, struggling to make himself heard over the noise of the engine. He steered the boat around another container ship. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Russians rounding the end of the ship, with his comrades’ boat following closely behind. Behind them, was another boat, closing fast. A sinister looking police tactical office stood in the boat, firing at Wizard. Shorty turned away, and concentrated on the river ahead.
Mo ducked as more gunfire was directed towards him. He pulled up his rifle, and fired off another burst of fire at their pursuers. He squeezed the trigger again, but ran out of ammunition mid-burst. He fumbled for a new magazine, until he was suddenly thrown backwards as several bullets hit him in the stomach. He cried out in pain.
Shorty looked down at Mo, and was shocked to see his friend lying in a heap, clutching his stomach. “Mo?!” he shouted.
“Just drive the boat!” Mo replied weakly. He looked down at his hands, already dripping blood. His armour had not been enough, it seemed.

“Those bastards!” Daystar shouted as he saw Mo get hit.
“Daystar! Try and take out their engine!” Wasp yelled.
Daystar fired at the rear of the boat, attempting to hit the engine. He finally hit the target, and the engine was torn to shreds by the powerful bullets. He continued firing, pulling the gun up slightly, and watched with satisfaction as the driver slumped forward. The boat began to drift off course and they watched as it crashed into the side of the ship. The surviving Russian jumped clear, but was shot by Wizard as the three freedom fighters sped past.
“Now get those cops off our arses!” shouted Wasp.
Daystar ducked down and moved towards the back of the boat. He arrived just as Wizard shot the second tactical officer. “Good shot mate!” Daystar yelled in his ear. They watched as the officer fell backwards out of view.
Daystar fired at the front of the boat, the bullets tearing holes in its hull, while Wizard kept the two agents busy. Daystar suddenly felt the machinegun go still. He had ran out of ammunition, but it didn’t matter; he had shot the hull full of holes, and the boat was slowly taking on water. He smiled, and looked up.
His eye’s met a face as they looked up. A cold, determined face. Daystar stared into the sunglasses that covered the eyes and held the hidden gaze, his eyes locked into the blackness.

Smith stared back from behind his glasses at his enemy. If this terrorist had been able to see his eyes, he would have seen the rage that Smith so expertly managed to keep from his facial expression. Smith knew his pursuit was over; he could feel the water lapping at his shoes. Without turning his head, Smith glanced over to the side of the river, and saw a jetty not too far away.
He swung the boat away from the fleeing terrorists, and headed for the jetty. He had been stopped, but the terrorists had not yet escaped. Pulling up alongside the jetty, he jumped out of the boat and ran up the steps to the quayside, with West following closely behind. Reaching the top, Smith looked downriver and smiled. A frigate sat in the river, doing its part to guard the boundaries of the Metropolitan Command Zone.

Captain Hines looked out into the river and saw the two speedboats sweep past and out into the river beyond the MCZ.
“Sir? Shall we scramble the helicopter?” asked his second in command.
Hines watched the two boats grow distant. Smugglers, no doubt, the Captain thought to himself. They were a waste of time to go after. “No,” he replied. “They are out of our jurisdiction. As you were.”
“Captain? We are receiving a call on radio, sir,” the communication officer informed him.
“What is it?” Hines asked, moving to where the young officer was seated.
“An Agent Smith wishes to speak with you, sir.”
An alarm bell sounded in the back of Hines’ mind. He put on his headset. “This is Captain Hines.”
“Hines, my name is Agent Smith. I am currently on the south side of the river. I request that you launch a boat to come and pick up my colleague and I.”
Hines frowned. This wasn’t sounding good at all. “Very well, Agent. Your exact location?”

“Shorty?” Daystar shouted into his mouthpiece. “Shorty, can you hear me?
There was a pause, before Shorty’s voice could be heard in everyone’s ears. “I hear you! Mo’s been hit! He’s hurt really bad…”
“I know,” Daystar interrupted. “We need to get off the river before they come after us again. Land on the north shore at the first opportunity, Ok?”
“Ok!”
The occupants of the second boat watched as Shorty steered his boat towards the shore. He slowly manoeuvred the boat up to the shore until it was virtually sitting on the small shingle beach. He turned off the engine and turned to Mo. Things looked bad. Mo was lying in a pool of blood, his eyes closed.
Shorty knelt down beside his comrade. “Mo! Wake up!”
Mo opened his eyes slowly and looked up at him. “Help me out of the boat Shorty,” he said quietly.
Shorty nodded and helped Mo to his feet. Mo bit into his lip as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. They moved to the edge of the boat, where Shorty jumped out onto the wet shingle. He reached up, and helped his friend out of the boat.
A little further down the beach, Wasp shut off his boat’s power, while Wizard and Daystar jumped out and ran towards where their friends were struggling up the beach to where the shingle was dry.
As they reached the dry shingle, Mo felt his knees buckle. He fell forwards, dragging Shorty down with him. He landed on the shingle, and rolled over onto his back. Shorty picked himself up from the shingle, and knelt over Mo.
“Jesus Christ…!” Shorty said, panic setting in. There was blood everywhere.
Daystar and Wizard arrived, and looked down at their wounded friend. They looked up at each other, and as their eyes met, they realised they were thinking the same. Mo was beyond help.
“Holy shi….” Wasp’s voice trailed off as he took in the scene. He walked up to them, carrying their rifles. He dumped them down on the ground, and stared at Mo.
Daystar looked at Mo again, before speaking quietly. “Wizard, Wasp, a word please.” He walked slowly away from Shorty and Mo, with the others following him.
Once out of earshot, he turned to his two companions. “He’s beyond us. We can’t even make him comfortable.”
“What do you think we should do?” Wizard asked.
“I… I will ask him if he wants me to… finish him…”
Wasp looked up. “But you can’t!”
“Wasp, he is in pain. We are miles from medical help,” Wizard said. “He’ll be gone soon, but if we do this, at least he won’t suffer.”
Wasp looked Wizard in the eye, his emotions attempting to take over. “I understand,” he said quietly.
“Ok… you guys get Shorty away from him. I’ll ….” Daystar looked up and saw his friends nod. They turned, and walked back towards Mo and Shorty. As they approached, Shorty looked up frantically.
“I can’t stop the blood!” he shouted. “Will you arseholes help me?”
Daystar ignored him and knelt down next to Mo. Behind him, Wizard spoke quietly. “Shorty, come with me and Wasp. Now.”
“But we have to help him!”
Wasp felt his patience slipping’ he didn’t need this. He walked round to where Shorty was, and grabbed him. “Let’s go! Now!”
“Piss off!” Shorty yelled as Wasp pulled him away. Wizard grabbed Shorty’s other arm, and together, he and Wasp pulled Shorty up the beach, leaving Daystar alone with Mo.
Daystar watched the trio move away, with Shorty struggling and swearing all the way up the beach. He turned his gaze to Mo. “Mo?” he asked.
“Yes?” he replied weakly.
“I’m sorry mate… I… it’s…”
“I know how bad it is,” Mo said. “I know what you went to talk about.”
“Do you want me to end it?”
“Yes… it hurts so much…”

As they reached the top of the beach, Wizard turned away from Shorty, who was by now spitting venom, and looked down the beach. He watched Daystar stand up, and pull his gun from its holster. Daystar took aim and fired.
As the report sounded, everything seemed to fall silent. Wizard saw Daystar slowly put the gun away, then rub his sleeve across his eyes. Wizard turned away, and saw that Shorty had become quiet, and was staring into the ground. Wasp was gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.
Daystar marched up the beach towards them. “It’s done,” he said quietly. “Help me bury him.”

[edit on 6-2-2005 by Daystar]



posted on Feb, 6 2005 @ 01:44 PM
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Excellent so far.
Keep up the good work you git!
lol



posted on Feb, 11 2005 @ 03:44 PM
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Chapter Nine - Betrayal

London, England, May 21, 2024

The group of mercenaries walked into the brightly lit room, accompanied by the security guard from the office at the entrance to the Corporate compound they now stood inside. At the end of the room, sitting behind a table littered with guns, was an old man reading a magazine. He looked up as they came in, and watched them as they walked over to him.
“Sir,” said the security guard. “These people are here to pick up some weapons. I checked their arrangement with Security HQ,” the guard’s voice took on a hushed tone, “Mr Pierce sent them, sir.”
The old man smiled at the guard. “Ok, thanks, I’ll take care of this. Dismissed.”
The guard left the room, and the old man got up and turned to his visitors. “Hi!” he said cheerfully, holding out his hand to James. “Name’s Dawson. I was told about you lot coming here. You must be Mr Carter.”
James smiled back and shook his hand. “Yes, I am Carter. These are my associates,” he said, gesturing to Carl, Sonja, and Nick.
“How do you do?” Dawson asked politely, shaking their hands. “Ok, Mr Carter,” Dawson said, picking up one of the rifles from the table, “These are what you asked for? Four M29’s?”
“Yes,” James replied.
“You know your guns. Good 5.56 calibre gun, with this 20mm cannon on top. You are aware the cannon’s shells airburst at a designated range as well as on impact? Very good for hitting people hiding behind walls and such.”
“Yes! I saw them in action with special forces once,” James said. “That is a very useful feature.”
“Indeed, Mr Carter,” Dawson said. He passed the rifle to James, before bending down to pick up a box from under the table. He placed it on the table, and opened it up. “Here,” he said, ”is all your ammo.”
“Excellent,” James said.
Dawson turned to a shelf behind him. Arranged neatly upon the shelf where scopes and goggles of varying types. He picked up four pairs of goggles of the same type and turned back to the mercenaries. “These are your NVG’s,” he said, laying them on the table.
“Brilliant!” said Nick enthusiastically. He picked up one of the sets and examined it.
“What about the armour?” Carl asked.
“Ah, yes,” Dawson said, a grin breaking out over his face again. He walked over to a box at the other side of the room and opened it. “In here are eight biosteel vests,” he said, pulling one out. “It was hard to get hold of these. Only our top people and the SOF get them.” He tapped the box beside the one he opened. “Your webbing,” he said.
Dawson walked back to his chair and sat down. “So, Mr Carter, everything in order?” he asked.
“Yes.” said James, placing the rifle back on the table.
“Good. I’ll get someone in to help you load this into your car,” Dawson said. He reached for a phone that sat at the end of the table, and lifted the receiver. “It’s Dawson. Send someone down here to help load up a vehicle. Thanks.” He put down the receiver, and turned back to James. “So, Mr Carter, pardon me for being nosy, but are you going on a hit or something?”
“No,” said James, “a safari.”

Mickey sat in the armchair, his fingers stabbing the remote control. In front of him, the television scrolled through the channels. On the sofa, Andrew snored loudly. Mickey looked across at the sleeping man and scowled. He turned back to the television to find himself watching a news channel.
“The massive blast followed a pitched battle between the two groups, one of which is thought to consist of members of a criminal organisation. Police are refusing to give details, but it is believed that the gunfight was followed by a brief chase downriver. The explosion was made all the more powerful by the illegal arms that were believed to be in the warehouse at the time…”
As Mickey watched the carnage, he was suddenly aware that his phone was ringing. He reached into his pocket for the phone and pulled it out. There was a familiar looking number displayed on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hello Mickey. Do you know who this is?”
“Holloway.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want? I’m kind of busy right now,” Mickey said, already bored.
“Hear anything on the street about any terrorists?” the detective asked, getting to the point.
Mickey went cold. “What?” he asked, trying to buy time so he could think.
“You heard me,” Holloway said.
“Why?” Mickey asked. “What’s up?”
“Mickey, don’t make me hurt you. If you know something, I got a guy that wants to speak with you.”
“A cop?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“A private contractor,” Holloway said. “Now, do you have any info?”
Mickey looked across at Andrew. He was still asleep. “Maybe,” Mickey replied. “How much does he need it?”
“I have been asked to pass a number on if you know anything,” said Holloway. “Call the number and arrange the pay yourself. But Mickey?”
“Yeah?”
“A word of advice; don’t mess this guy about.”
“Just give me the number.”

As they pulled out of the compound, James felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out of his pocket, and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hello. I hear you’ve been asking around?”
James smiled. Steve worked fast. “Yes I have. You have any information for me?”
“I’ll need compensation.”
“How much?” James asked.
“Twenty-five grand.”
“Done.”
There was a pause, as though the caller was surprised at not having to haggle. “Ok, how soon can you get the cash?”
“Give me an hour,” James replied. “Where shall we meet?”
“Calypso Cafe, Hackney.”
“Alright, give me about an hour and a half, and we’ll meet there. Give me a contact name.”
“Ask the bartender for M H.”
Alright. Speak to you soon. Bye.”
“Bye.” The line went dead.
James turned to Carl. “Let’s go to the bank, CJ.”
“We got a lead?” Carl asked, taking his eyes off the road and glancing at James.
“Yes.”
“That was quick!” Sonja said. “You will be careful this isn’t someone messing us around?”
“Trust me,” said James.

Tilbury Docks, England, May 21, 2024

Smith marched onto the bridge, his burden in tow. “Where is Captain Hines?” he asked, addressing the men watching him.
The Captain stepped forward. “I am Hines.”
Smith stepped towards the officer, pulling his identification from his pocket. “Captain, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice and aiding criminals. You shall be court-martialled.”
“What?” Hines shouted.
“Where is the Executive Officer?”
An officer stepped forward. “Lieutenant Commander McKinley, sir,” he said.
“McKinley, you are now in command of this ship, though under my temporary control. Have your men secure the Captain,” Smith said.
McKinley hesitated, torn between loyalty to his Captain, and the knowledge that he would suffer if he didn’t carry out the order.
“That is a simple order, McKinley!” Smith snapped.
“Patterson, Coombes, take the Captain and secure him in his cabin,” McKinley said quietly.
Two men stepped towards Hines. “Please come with us, sir,” one of them said.
Hines glared at Smith, the rage visible in his eyes. “I’ll have your arse for this,” he said quietly to the Agent. “I’ll have your arse.”
Smith ignored him. “Take him away,” he said.
Hines stormed out of the room, his escorts following. Smith watched him leave, before turning to McKinley. “Launch the helicopter, and find those boats that went past here.”
“Sir,” McKinley replied.
Smith turned to West. “Get on the phone, and get someone to retrieve our CCTV footage of the gunfight. I want the images of the people who attacked Romanov given to every police officer, military serviceman, and agent in the city, understood?”
“Understood,” replied West.

Essex, England, May 21, 2024

Daystar patted the soil down with his hands, before standing up and taking a step back. The others stood around the grave, paying their respects. Daystar bowed his head and stood for a moment in silence.
“Guys?” Wasp said gently after a while. “We should get moving, before they come looking for us.”
Wizard looked up. “Agreed,” he said. “Any ideas on where to go?”
“Back along the river would be quickest, but that way will be full of police and military by now. I think we should go north west,” Wasp said.
“No,” Daystar said.
They both turned to look at him. “What do you think then?” Wasp asked.
“We’re going to go a couple of miles downstream again, staying as close to the waterline as possible. Then we’ll head north.”
“Why go downstream?” Wizard asked.
“This place is tidal, and I’m hoping that staying as close to the water as we can, will mean our tracks are covered when the tide comes in.”
“I see,” Wizard said.
Shorty bent down and picked up his rifle. “Let’s move then,” he said quietly.
The others picked up their weapons and followed him. They walked back down onto the beach, and headed for the boats. Upon reaching them, the group turned east, and began walking, staying close to the water all the way.

London, England, May 21, 2024

Nick and Sonja walked into the bar and ambled over to the bar, acting as a young couple. Nick ordered drinks, and they sat on the stools, talking about nothing in particular. Two minutes later, James stepped into the bar, carrying a briefcase. He strolled to the bar, and stopped in front of the barman.
“What can I get you, guv?” the man asked.
“I’m here to see M H.” James said quietly.
“I was told to expect you,” the barman said. “He’s over there.” He pointed across the bar, to a man sitting at a table. James smiled as he saw that the man’s gaze was fixed upon him.
“Thanks,” James said to the barman. He walked quickly over to the table. Behind him, his two colleagues glanced over their shoulders to see where he was going, then returned to their drinks.
“M H?” James asked as he arrived at the table.
“Yes,” came the reply.
James pulled out a chair, and sat down. “I have your money,” he said quietly.
“In the case?”
“Yes, in the case.”
“Good. Pass it under the table.”
James complied, slipping the case over to the man seated opposite him. He watched as the man placed the case on his lap and opened it. The man peered inside and smiled. He peeled back a few notes from the top of one of the stacks of money, checking to see that James wasn’t trying to con him. Satisfied, he pulled his hand from the case, and closed it.
“I have an address,” he said. “It is the safehouse of the man who bombed the Embassy. You will find him there.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and slid it over to the mercenary. “You might want to hurry, though,” the man said, “because I am unsure as to how long he will be there before he leaves.”
James picked up the piece of paper and looked at it. Seeing the promised address, he folded it and placed it in his jacket pocket. “Right,” he said, “I’m off. It’s been a pleasure.” He got up from the table, and headed for the door.
Mickey watched him leave, a smile spreading over his face. He was now out of what was becoming a messy situation with Hakan and his group, and he had enough money to live it up for a while. There was no question of a backlash from the cell; they would probably be dead or in prison before long.
Mickey got up from the table, and walked over to the door, case in hand. He passed by the couple at the bar, paying no attention to the phone call that the woman was having. Mickey opened the door, and stepped outside.
Suddenly, a van screeched to a halt in front of him, its side door open. Mickey stepped back, surprised, but somebody slammed into his back, pushing him forward into the van. He turned, and saw the couple from the bar climbing into the van after him, sliding the door shut behind them. As the door slammed shut, the van started moving.
“What the hell?” Mickey shouted.
“Shut it!” snarled the man. He slammed his fist into Mickey’s stomach.
Mickey gasped for air, and collapsed onto the floor of the van. He was rolled on to his front, and his arms were pulled up behind his back. He felt his wrists being bound together, before he was lifted into a sitting position. He looked about the van, and saw the couple sitting opposite him. At the end of the van, holding the briefcase of money, sat the man from the bar.
“You don’t get to play with the cash yet,” said the man. “You’re coming with us.”
“What?”
The man leaned forwards. “Did you really think I would just hand over that kind of money without making sure I got what I paid for?” he said quietly. “You will come with us. Once we make the pickup, you will be released with your money. If we don’t get what we want, you’ll regret it.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered open, his dream still echoing through his mind. He sat up, the images still flashing across his mind, and shook his head to clear it. He looked across to the armchair, half expecting Mickey to be scowling at him, but he was not there.
Andrew shrugged, and stared past the chair and out of the window, squinting as the bright light filtered into the room. Suddenly, the window was cut from his view, as someone stepped in front of him.
“Get outta my face, Mickey,” Andrew grumbled. He looked up and found himself staring at a man he had not seen before, decked out in body armour and carrying a vicious looking rifle. Andrew froze as he felt steel being pressed into his neck.
“Don’t move,” said a woman’s voice in his ear.
Andrew fixed his gaze on the man in front of him. “Who are you guys?” he asked.
“Quiet!” the man shouted.
There was movement from the living room door, but Andrew didn’t dare turn his head to look. “Nick, Son, he’s our man. Surveillance snaps of the Embassy, and bomb making gear in the bedroom.”
“Is that what you wanted to know?” Andrew asked bitterly. “Why not ask? I would have told you.”
“I said be quiet,” the man repeated. “Now be quiet or else!”
“CJ is bagging up the evidence,” the person at the door continued. “I’m going to go and let the grass go.”
Andrew found himself laughing. That explained where Mickey was, it seemed. That treacherous bastard.
“Gag him too,” said the voice at the door.

James closed the front door, and walked hurriedly over to the van. He popped the side door, and slid it open, before stepping inside. He grabbed the informant, and dragged him out of the van.
“Well?” the man asked. “Was he there?”
“Yes, he was there. I am going to let you go.” James reached into the van again and pulled the briefcase from within. He set it down on the ground next to the man, before pulling a knife from his pocket and cutting through the man’s bonds.
The man got to his feet, rubbing his wrists and glaring at James.
“Now take your money and leave,” James said.
Without taking his eyes from James, the man bent down and picked up the case. He backed away slowly, before turning and running.
James smiled after the fleeing man, before turning his attention back to where Nick and Sonja were dragging the terrorist out through the front door. Behind them followed Carl, carrying a sports bag that contained the evidence they had found.

[edit on 11-2-2005 by Daystar]



posted on Feb, 11 2005 @ 04:22 PM
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That's it, now I definately want more...
Execellent work...

Boba



posted on Feb, 17 2005 @ 01:19 PM
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All I can say is brilliant


The story has really developed on, from start to the present, looking forward to the next part(s).



posted on Feb, 19 2005 @ 05:24 PM
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Chapter Ten - The Journey Home

Alex walked at a leisurely pace down the street, carrying a bag of food. She was on her way to visit Andrew. There was no news from Mo yet, though the news channels were showing an apparent success, and Hakan had asked her to have a quick look at Andrew.
She rounded the corner, turning into the street where Andrew’s safehouse was. As she did, she saw a van pulling away from outside Andrew’s place. Alex frowned, and picked up the pace as the van sped off down the street.
She arrived outside the safehouse, and knocked on the front door. Getting no response, she put her hands on the door, and gave it a push. The door swung open.
“Are you lookin’ for Andrew, love?”
Alex turned around. Andrew’s neighbour, Mrs O’Rourke, stood staring at her, a look of concern on her face. “Yes, I am,” Alex replied. “Has something happened?”
“Yes!” the Mrs O’Rourke answered. “Some people just took him away!”
Alex stepped towards the old lady slowly. “Please,” she said, “tell me what happened.”
“I don’t think I saw everything,” Mrs O’Rourke answered. “I looked out the window, and saw a man dragging another man out of a van. The man from the van was given a briefcase, and he left. Then I saw some people dragging poor Andrew out into the street. They put him in the van, and drove off just now.”
“What did the person who was dragged from the van look like?” Alex asked.

Essex, England, May 21, 2024

Daystar stared ahead as he marched, not really paying attention to what he was seeing. His brain was busy elsewhere, dwelling on what had passed that afternoon. Romanov was out of the picture, but now, they were stranded outside London, and had lost a man.
Daystar bit his lip. Mo was dead by his hand. The mere thought of this made him feel bad. Mo had been a good friend.
Shaking his head, he tried to focus on the journey ahead. He was in command now that Mo had gone, and it was his responsibility to get everyone back home safely. His plan was to circle north and then west, but he knew that there was a strong possibility that they may be chased by the military. Then, of course, there was the problem of actually getting back into London. Daystar sighed; it was going to be a hard march.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. No signal. He scowled at the phone, cursing it under his breath, before shoving back into his pocket.
Up ahead, Wasp, who was on point, had stopped, and was waiting for everyone else to catch up. “Shall we turn north now?” he asked Daystar as the others joined him. “We’ve gone about three miles by my reckoning.”
Daystar looked up. “Yes. Let’s turn north now,” he said. He looked inland, and saw some woods about half a mile away. “Head for those trees,” he said.
Wasp turned inland, the others following. To their left, the sun was starting to sink into a bank of cloud. As they drew closer to the trees, Daystar heard a noise. He stopped, and tilted his head to one side, listening carefully. The others stopped and watched him.
“What?” Shorty asked.
“Can you hear that? It sounds like…” Daystar suddenly went white. “It’s a chopper! Move!”
Wasp turned and ran for the trees, the others following. Reaching the tree line, he turned, dropped onto one knee, and pulled his rifle up to his shoulder, covering his comrades. As they passed him, he got up, and followed.
Shorty was now on point, and he charged through the trees, the others close behind. Behind them, the sound of the helicopter grew steadily, until they heard it go thundering by, passing over the field they had just crossed, and heading out to the east.
The stopped for a moment to catch their breath. ”That was close,” said Wizard.
“Tell me about it,” Wasp replied. “We probably don’t have long before it comes back. Let’s go!”
They moved off at a fast yet steady pace, ducking the branches of the trees, and avoiding nettles. Shorty remained on point, Daystar behind him. Wizard walked behind him, with Wasp last.
As they walked, Wizard watched Daystar closely. He seemed to be in a world of his own, despite the urgency of the situation they were in at the moment. Wizard picked up his pace, and caught up to Daystar. “Are you alright Day?” he asked, drawing alongside.
Daystar stared ahead. “I’m Ok,” he replied, his voice cold, distant.
“Are you sure?” Wizard asked.
“I’m fine Wizard. Just give me a while alright?”
“Fair enough.”
Up ahead, Shorty was beginning to see daylight between the trees in front of him. They were coming to the other side of the woods, it seemed. He slowed down a little. Peering through the trees to the edge, he saw a road, with another field beyond.
He stopped, and waited for the others to join him.
“See that?” he asked, pointing to the road. “Shall we follow it?”
“Yes, but we’ll move parallel to it rather than on it,” Daystar said quietly. “Just in case we run into somebody, or if that poxy chopper comes back. We wouldn’t want to get caught on the road.”
“Agreed.” said Wizard.
They turned west, staying in the woods, though keeping the road in view. As they walked, it suddenly began to grow dark. Daystar looked up through the leaves, and saw that the clouds they had seen earlier were now covering most of the sky. The sun had gone, and it looked ready to rain. Daystar sighed, and focused on the route ahead.
The woods began to thin out; they were approaching the edge, when Wasp heard a twig snap behind him. He turned, and peer through the gloom. A dark shape was approaching through the trees at high speed, moving on all fours. “Contact!” he yelled, pulling up his rifle and firing a burst into the trees.
Wizard and Daystar were beside him in an instant, scanning the trees through their scopes, looking for targets. Wasp lowered his rifle.
“What was it?” Shorty asked, joining them.
Wasp stared into the gathering darkness. The shape was gone, and there was no sign of a body. “I don’t know… it was running like a dog, or something,” he replied quietly. “I can’t see it now…”
“Shh!” Wizard hissed at them. “Over there!” He pointed with his rifle over to the group’s right.
Daystar scanned right with his scope, and saw it. A dog, possibly a Doberman, stood just in sight, its teeth bared.
“In front!” Shorty whispered. The others turned to look, and saw two more dogs approaching slowly.
Shorty took one foot off the ground, and placed it behind him.
“Don’t even bloody move!” Daystar said in a low growl. He turned his head to look at Shorty. “If you run, they will chase you down.” He turned away, and saw a forth dog appearing from the shadows. “Wasp?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Get your MP7 ready.”
Wasp let his rifle swing down to his side, and pulled up his sidearm. He unfolded the foregrip, and took up a stance, ready to hit the dogs with everything the weapon could throw at them.
Daystar heard a growl away to his left. He turned and saw a fifth dog, silhouetted against the light filtering into the woods from the road. ”Bollocks! We’ve been flanked!”
The dogs in front moved closer, as did the one to the right. The one to the left circled round a little further, before it too started to advance. ”Wizard, have you got a shot on the one on the right?” Daystar asked.
“Yeah,”
“When I say, hit it Ok? Then get your Beretta out ASAP.”
“Ok.”
Shorty glanced nervously over his shoulder, and saw two more dogs stalking through the trees. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed.
Daystar turned to look at the new threat, but at that moment, the dogs rushed in. Wasp squeezed the trigger, and his MP7 blazed into life. He sprayed the area in front of him with bullets. He saw one dog fall. Another span as a bullet ploughed into its shoulder, knocking it off balance. The third disappeared from view.
Wizard fired at the dog on the right, but missed. He dropped his rifle, and tried to pull his pistol from his holster, but the dog was already on him. It knocked him to the ground, and jumped on him. Wizard put his hand up, and gripped the dog around its throat. The dog paid little attention, and it snapped at him, its teeth closing barely an inch from his nose.
Shorty pulled up his rifle, and opened fire. Daystar followed suit, and they watched as the bullets cut the dogs down, until suddenly, Daystar found himself laying on his back. He looked up, and found another dog upon him. He snarled, and swung his fist into the dog’s face. The dog yelped, and jumped clear. Daystar rolled away, and got up to face the dog. It leaped forward, teeth bared. Daystar met it with a punch, the dog yelped again, and tried to turn tail. But Daystar jumped on it, and locked his arms around its neck. He tightened the hold, and then rolled onto his back, pulling the dog with him. The dog’s legs thrashed into the air, but as he watched, they grew still. He gave one last crushing squeeze, and threw the dog off.
Meanwhile, Wasp had spotted Wizard struggling with the dog. He rushed over, and kicked the dog as hard as possible in the ribs. There was a sickening crunch, and the dog flew off Wizard. It landed a foot or so away, and began whimpering. Shorty finished it by stamping down on its throat.
Wasp helped Wizard off the floor. “Are you Ok?” he asked.
“Sort of,” Wizard replied, out of breath.
Daystar walked over to them, picking up his rifle as he went. “Is anyone hurt?” he asked.
“We’re alright,” Wasp replied.
Shorty stared into the woods around them. “Is that all of them?” he asked.
Wizard glanced over Wasp’s shoulder, and saw another dog sneaking through the trees. “Behind you!” he yelled.
Shorty flexed his arm, and his pistol slid into his hand. He took aim, and shot the dog dead. “Now,” he said, resetting the slide, “is that all?”
“Should be,” Wasp replied.
“But still,” Daystar said, picking up Wizard’s rifle and passing it to him, “we are gonna move out slowly. Wasp, me and Wizard will go in front. You and Shorty cover the rear. We’ll advance twenty paces, and then cover you. Ok?”
“Ok,” Wasp replied.
They moved out slowly, continuing in their previous direction. The trees continued to thin out, and soon, Wizard and Daystar stepped out into a field. It was now getting dark quickly, and away in the distance, they could see lights, indicating where London was.
“How far do you think it is?” Wizard asked.
“Could be anywhere between five and ten miles,” Daystar replied.
Wasp and Shorty joined them. “Is that London?” Shorty asked.
“Yes,” Wizard said.
Wasp sighed. “You guys do realise we won’t just be able to walk back into London?”
“Well,” Daystar said, “we might as well be moving towards it whilst we try and figure something out, right?”
They set off, and began marching through the field, still moving parallel to the road. Fatigue was beginning to set in, and the group’s pace dropped substantially.
Wasp looked up as a drop of water hit him on the cheek. The clouds that had threatened rain looked set to deliver on that threat. Within a minute, the heavens had opened, and Wasp found himself struggling to see any great distance ahead of him. He gritted his teeth, and made an effort to pick up the pace, only to realise a minute later that he had slowed down again. Wasp sighed; he knew that his morale was dropping by the minute, and the rain wasn’t helping.
Behind Wasp, Shorty was getting tired quickly. He trudged through the mud, not really paying attention to where he was going. Suddenly, his foot stubbed into the ground, and he saw the ground rushing up to meet him. But someone grabbed him, and pulled him back up onto his feet.
“You Ok, Short Stuff?” Daystar asked.
“Yeah,” Shorty replied, “I’m just tired.”
Daystar looked up. “Wasp!” he called.
Wasp turned back. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he joined them.
“We all need to take a break.” Daystar squinted through the rain and saw a large tree close to the road. “Head for that tree over there. It’s not much, but it’s still shelter.”
The group headed for the tree, moving as fast as they could. They arrived beneath it, and stopped. Wizard leant his rifle against the tree, and then leant against it himself. Shorty copied him. Daystar stood on guard, while Wasp simply stood under the branches, grateful of what little shelter the tree was providing.
Daystar was facing east, when he suddenly saw a glow coming from the road. Headlights. He looked at the others. “Follow me! Quick!”
They ran down to the road, and crouched down behind the hedge. “Wasp, have you got your scope?” Daystar asked.
“Of course,” Wasp replied.
“Have a look down the road and see what we are dealing with.”
Wasp pulled his scope from his belt, and stood up from behind the hedge. He switched it to night vision, and looked down the road with it. Heading down the road towards them was a solitary army truck. He zoomed in, and looked into the cab. It seemed that there was only a driver. Wasp smiled and crouched down behind the hedge again.

Marc Chambers stared through the windscreen, a feeling of intense boredom surrounding him. He hated having to leave the base on a night like this, but orders were orders. He sighed, and tried to look on the bright side; his delivery to the Southend Garrison had been made, and he was on his way back to London.
Suddenly, Marc saw a figure laying in the road ahead. He slammed the breaks on, and the truck skidded to a halt. He sat in his seat for a moment, watching the body, before swearing loudly, pulling the hood up on his coat, and opening the cab door. He climbed out into the rain, and walked cautiously over to the body. He was shocked to find himself looking at a kid. Marc crouched down and shook the apparently lifeless body. “Hey!” he yelled. “Can you hear me?”
Marc suddenly felt a gun being pressed into the back of his head. “He can hear you just fine,” said a voice from behind him.
Shorty opened his eyes, and grinned up at the surprised soldier looking down at him. “Hi,” he said.
“What the fu…” Marc began.
“Quiet!” said the voice from behind. “Do as you’re told, and you’ll be fine. If you don’t, then we will kill you. Understand?”
“Yes,” Marc muttered, scowling down at the kid before him.
“Put your hands up, and then get up slowly,” the voice instructed him.
Marc did as he was told, and than watched the teenager get up from the floor, and brush away the rainwater that had collected on his jacket. Cocky little bastard, Marc thought as he noticed the kid grinning at him still.
He felt the gun move away from his head. Turn around slowly,” he was ordered.
Turning round, Marc found himself staring at a young guy, who was holding a Desert Eagle on him. Behind the guy, two more people were moving slowly round the truck, carrying rifles.
Daystar glanced over the soldier’s shoulder. “Search him,” he said to Shorty.
Wasp walked up to Daystar. “All clear,” he informed him.
“Excellent,” Daystar said quietly. “Watch him,” he said, nodding at the soldier.
Wasp pulled up his rifle, and took aim. Shorty had found Marc’s wallet, and passed it to Daystar.
“So,” Daystar said, almost to himself, “Where were you heading?”
“London,” Marc replied. “They’re expecting me back, so you better lea…”
“Just answer the questions, please,“ Daystar said. He opened up Marc’s wallet and looked inside. A photograph of a smiling woman and two kids looked up at him. Daystar looked up at the soldier. “Is this your family?” he asked.
Marc looked daggers at him. “Yes,” he mumbled.
“Relax…” Daystar looked down at the wallet again, “…Marc. We won’t do anything to them. We just need you to help us into London, that is all.”
“If I refuse?” Marc asked, growing bold. To his surprise, the man in front of him laughed.
“I doubt you will, Marc. If you want to see your family again, you will help us. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I think I need to. So, will you help us? Or do the Army have to send a letter to you wife and kids?”
Marc dropped the tough guy act. “Look,” he said quietly, “if I get found with you guys in my truck, I’m screwed. Plus, how do I know I can trust you?”
“One, you have little choice, you are helping us. Two, you have to trust us. Again, you have little choice in the matter.”
“Alright, I’ll help you,” Marc said.
“Thank you,” Daystar said, smiling at him.
Marc was surprised; his captor seemed genuinely grateful. “There are some boxes in the back, and a tarpaulin. Get behind the boxes, and cover up with the tarpaulin,” he said.
“I’m riding in front with you,” Daystar said. He turned to Wasp. “Cover him while I get in, then make him get in. When he’s in, get in the back, Ok?” Wasp nodded.
Wizard walked over from the truck, carrying the radio headsets he had made under his jacket. “I think we should use these,” he said, “so we can all keep each other up to date.”
“Good idea,” Daystar said. “Alright guys, let’s go.”

London, England, May 21, 2024

As they approached the checkpoint, Daystar slid off his seat, and onto the floor of the cab. He made himself as comfortable as possible, and aimed his pistol at Marc. “Ok,” he said, “Here’s how we’re gonna do this; don’t look at me, don’t look at the gun, and don’t look up into the roof of the cab. If you get any ideas about signalling, remember your family, because you will be the first to get shot. Ok?”
“Ok.”
Marc stared ahead and saw the guards at the barrier waving at him to slow down. He slowed to a halt, and wound down his window. The guard walked up alongside his door.
“Papers please mate,” he said wearily.
Marc passed his paperwork out to the guard. “Feel sorry for you sods,” he said. “It’s pissing it down out here.”
“Tell me about it,” the guard replied. He scanned the delivery documents from Southend Garrison. “Returning to your depot?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Lucky bugger.” The guard signed the papers, and passed them back to Marc.
“Thanks,” Marc said. He put the papers down on Daystar’s seat, and started to do up his window.
“Hold on mate,” the guard said.
Marc went cold. Daystar held his breath, and felt his grip on his pistol tighten.
“What’s the matter?” Marc asked the guard.
The guard moved a little closer to the window, and lowered his voice. “I don’t suppose you got any ciggies going spare?”
Marc smiled at him. “Sorry mate, I don’t smoke.”
“Bollocks,” the guard said miserably. “Never mind. Take it easy mate.” He stepped away from the truck, and waved to the guard inside the sentry box, who pulled up the barrier. Marc wound up his window, then sent the truck rolling through the checkpoint.
Daystar breathed a sigh of relief, and loosened his grip on his Desert Eagle. “Thank you Marc,” he said, quietly.
Marc breathed in deeply. “Ok, we’re in London. Where shall I drop you off?”
“Hackney,” Daystar replied. He climbed back up into his seat, placing Marc’s paperwork on the dashboard. “I’ll show you where to go when we get there.”
Half an hour later, in a patch of wasteland, the truck stopped. Wasp climbed out of the truck, with Wizard and Shorty following behind. He moved quickly round to the driver’s door, and aimed his rifle up at Marc. “Out!” he ordered.
Marc climbed out of the cab, and put his hands up. Daystar climbed out the other side, and slammed the door shut. He moved round to where the others were.
“Got everything?” he asked his comrades. They nodded, and he turned to the soldier. “Thank you Marc,” he said, holding his hand out to the man.
Marc lowered his hands slowly, and cautiously shook the younger man’s hand.
Wizard leant into the cab of the truck, and pulled the key from the ignition. “We’ll leave these over here for you,” he said quietly, tossing the keys away towards the back of the truck.
Daystar smiled. “Hands on your head please,” he said, “then on your knees, and cross your ankles.”
Marc complied, and watched as his passengers disappeared into the night.

[edit on 19-2-2005 by Daystar]



posted on Feb, 27 2005 @ 01:24 PM
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Chapter Eleven - An Ally From The Street

Andrew sat in the chair, staring straight ahead. He didn’t need to look around; the bare concrete room had nothing to look at. In front of him, James and Sonja stood quietly, watching the door. Carl and Nick were giving the corporate guards standing around the room evil looks.
The door opened, and in strode three men. Andrew smiled as he recognized one. Henry Beckett, the intended target of his bomb attack on the US Embassy.
The men looked at him. “Is that him?” Henry asked, his eyes locked onto the man in the chair.
“Just one guy?” asked another.
“Yes Mr Jackson,” James replied. “Just one guy. The evidence we have supports this. No other names, no contact details.”
Ken looked at James thoughtfully. “Ok, Mr Carter. Your mission is complete. Five million is now in each of your accounts.”
“Excellent,” James said. He looked at Carl. “Give them the evidence,” he said.
Carl passed the sports bag with the evidence in it to the man called Jackson, and stepped away quickly.
“It’s been a pleasure,” James said.
The third man turned to one of the guards. “Take Mr Carter and his friends to their car,” he ordered.
“Yes, Mr Pierce.”
Andrew watched the guard escort the mercenaries from the room, and looked up at the men in suits.
“Something tells me that Mr Carter didn’t get everyone,” Dennis said to Ken.
“Well, let’s find out.” Henry said, advancing on the freedom fighter. He crouched down in front of Andrew.
Andrew looked into his eyes, and saw a hatred bubbling just below the surface.
Henry stared back. “I’m gonna hurt you so bad, you’re gonna beg to die. But I’m not gonna let you. It’s not going to be that easy!”

Tilbury Docks, England, May 21, 2024

Smith looked over the young officer’s shoulder, and down at the radar screen. The green light reflected off his sunglasses, giving the Agent an eerie look. He watched as a blip on the radar moved slowly across the screen, indicating where the ship’s helicopter was moving.
“Excuse me, sir,” McKinley said, addressing the Agent. “The helicopter still reports no trace of the enemy, and all we can see is the boats.”
Smith turned slowly to face the officer. He knew he had lost the terrorists, but he still had work to do elsewhere. “Very well McKinley. Order the helicopter back, and have a boat prepared for my colleague and myself.” He looked across the bridge to where Agent West was staring out of the window, stifling a yawn. “West!” Smith said sharply.
West jumped, and spun around. “Yes sir?” he asked.
“We are going back to Romanov’s,” Smith informed the younger agent. “So go and get Hines. We will take him with us for questioning.”
“Yes sir,” West left the bridge.
Smith turned back to McKinley. “Be extremely vigilante, McKinley. If anyone tries to get back into the MCZ, detain them and contact us, understand?”
“Understood,” McKinley replied.

London, England, May 21, 2024

The rain had finally stopped, and Daystar and Wizard took their jackets off, and wrapped up the group’s assault rifles. As the group moved silently through the streets, Daystar’s thoughts drifted back to Mo, and by the looks of it, so did Shorty’s. Daystar frowned, and kicked a bottle as he walked past it, barely hearing it crash into the wall and shatter. Wizard and Wasp both looked up sharply at the sound, whereas Shorty did not.
They turned into Hakan’s street, and quickly walked down to the house. Daystar knocked on the door, and waited.
Hakan wrenched the door open, with Alex behind him, making a poor attempt to conceal a gun.
Hakan looked over the group and instantly realised what had happened.
“Hak…” Daystar began quietly, looking down at the floor.
“Quickly, come inside,” Hakan said softly. Behind him, Alex placed a hand over her mouth, as she realised that Mo had died. Tears appeared in her eyes, and she walked away down the hallway and into the kitchen.
The group filed into the hallway, and Hakan closed the door behind them. “Go into the living room,” he said.
They walked into the living room, and collapsed onto the sofas. Hakan sat in his armchair, and looked wearily over the group. “Before you tell me what happened to Mohammed,” he said quietly, “you should all know that we have been betrayed by Mickey.”
Everyone looked up, shocked.
“We think he has turned Andrew over to the Corporation.” Hakan said.
A stunned silence filled the room. Daystar looked down at his hands, and found himself shaking. He suddenly sprang up from his chair and stormed towards the door. Hakan saw it coming; he knew Daystar too well. He placed himself in the doorway, and looked straight at the younger man in front of him. “You aren’t leaving,” he said.
“What the hell are you doing?” Wasp asked Daystar.
Daystar spun round. “What does it look like I’m gonna do?” he yelled. “I’m gonna kill him!”
Wizard got up and walked over to his friend. “Day, please…”
“Please what? I never trusted Mickey! That rat bastard has just sent my friend to a fate worse than death!”
Shorty nodded furiously. “We’ll never be able to find Andy now! He is gone forever!” he said bitterly.
Daystar turned back to face Hakan, but saw Alex standing behind the imam. He felt his anger draining away as she watched him. “Please don’t go…” she whispered.
Daystar pushed past Hakan and wrapped his arms around her. “I... I’m sorry Al,” he said softly. He looked up at Hakan as Alex collapsed into tears. “I must get Mickey, Hak. He betrayed us!”
“We will get him,” Hakan replied, “but not now, my friend. You are all tired, and we are still compromised. We have no idea what Mickey has told them, so before we take revenge, we must find a new base.”
Daystar wracked his brain, trying to think of friends that could help, but who weren’t too close to the cell. A weak smile spread over his face as a name popped into his mind. “I know a man who can help us,” he said quietly. “Let’s grab our stuff, and go as soon as possible.”

After packing what they needed, the group walked out of the house, and got into the two cars that were parked out front. Daystar got into his car with Wizard and Hakan, and Wasp, Shorty and Alex got into Hakan’s car. Daystar started the car up, and pulled away, while Alex, driving the other car, followed behind.
In the lead car, Daystar pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialled a number. He placed it next to his ear, and waited for a reply.
“Hello?” A woman answered the phone.
Daystar smiled as he recognized the voice. “Hi Amy,” he said. “It’s me.”
“Hello Day,” Amy answered. “It’s been a while.”
“Indeed,” Daystar replied.
“So, how can I help you?”
“Where is that boss of yours?”
“We are all at a meeting,” Amy replied.
“Where?”
“The Shepherd’s Bush finish line,” Amy answered. “The race just started.”
“Ok, see you soon Amy,” Daystar said.
“Bye.”
Daystar turned the phone off, and turned to Hakan. “We have to go meet him at a race, Hak,” he said.
“Very well,” said Hakan.

Astral floored the accelerator as his car pulled into the street. The old Supra roared forward, following the other cars that were participating in the ‘meeting’. He threaded the car through the traffic, gaining on the NSX in front, then watched with amusement as it clipped another car and span on to the pavement, before wrapping itself neatly round a speed limit sign.
As he flashed past the wreck, Astral grinned. It was always the same; one guy who thinks that just because he has a fast car, he can race the streets of London.
Astral saw a corner coming up, and slowed down. He swung the jet black car round the corner, narrowly missing a bus. There were now only four people between him and victory, and one of them sat right in front of him. He floored the accelerator again, and effectively had a drag race with the other car down a relatively traffic free stretch of road. He saw the car beside him gradually falling back out of view, and soon, its headlights filled his rear view mirror.
Three to go.
Astral focused on the road ahead, and saw his next rival disappearing round the next turn. Following the car round the corner, Astral saw a police car pulling out in front of him, giving chase to the other car.
Astral swore out loud, slamming the brakes on. He swung around the police car, and put his foot down. Passing the police car, he took a hand off the wheel, and gave the officers a one fingered salute. The police car sped after Astral, its lights flashing and siren blaring.
Ahead, the car that had narrowly avoided the police car grew closer as Astral picked up his pace. Before long, he sat behind the blue Impreza, with the police car behind him. Astral slipped out onto the wrong side of the road, flew past his opponent, and then jumped back into the right lane, dodging the truck that was heading towards him. In his wing mirror, Astral watched with amazement as the police car tried to follow, and winced as he saw the car slam into the truck.
Astral turned back to the road ahead, and pulled away from the Impreza. He was nearing the finish, and he couldn’t see the last two cars. He frowned, and pulled around a corner, entering the long finishing straight.
And saw them, locked in a battle. Astral slammed his foot down, and began catching up. As he drew near, he pulled into another lane, and reached for the ignition switch for his nitrous. The Supra screamed forward as he flipped the switch. He flashed past the Skyline and the MR2, and gently coaxed the speeding car back into the right lane. Astral smiled. That would teach them to play their ace at the beginning of the race.
In front of him, the finish line drew closer. Astral reached for his stereo, and turned it up loud; it was good to make a noisy victory.

Daystar got out of the car, as did Wizard and Hakan. Behind their car, Alex pulled over and turned off the engine, then got out, Wasp and Shorty following suit.
“Ok,” Daystar said, “I’m going in by myself. You guys better stay here and watch the cars. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take Wasp with you,” Hakan said.
Daystar looked at Hakan. “It’s better if I show up by myself. I’m an old face, but they don’t know Wasp, and if he turns up with me, they might freak out.”
“Very well,” Hakan said.
Daystar turned away, and walked quickly down the street. He rounded the corner, and saw a familiar looking car, surrounded by people he knew from a past life. He grinned, and ambled towards the group, a thumping bass line assailing his ears.
Amy saw him first. “Hi!” she said excitedly, walking over to greet him.
“What’s up, Amy!” Daystar greeted her.
“You just missed the finish, babe,” Amy said.
“Did he win?”
“Of course he won!” Amy laughed. “Let’s go say hi!” She grabbed Daystar’s arm, and dragged him through the crowd.
Astral leant against the Supra, flicking through a stack of money. “Well, Astral,” a voice said, “I see you’re still driving this POS!”
Astral smiled, and turned to see Daystar and Amy grinning at him. “Hey! What’s up man!”
“How you doin’ mate!” Daystar shook hands with him.
“Were the hell have you been? We ain’t seen you for months!”
“I’ve been busy,” Daystar replied. His smile faded and he looked down at the floor.
“What’s up?” Astral asked.
Daystar looked up, a deadly serious expression on his face. “Listen Astral,” he said, “me and my people are in deep #e. Can you help us?”
Astral’s smiled disappeared, and his voice took on a business like tone. “No problems, but let’s discuss this back at the bar, Ok?”
Daystar smiled weakly at him. “Thanks mate,” he said.
Astral looked at Amy. “Find Julia and Kate, and tell them to head back to the bar. Then you come back here.” He turned to Daystar. ”Is your car near here?”
“Yeah,” Daystar replied. “Two car convoy round the corner.”
“Cool. You go get them sorted, and we’ll come and join you in a couple of minutes.”
“Cool.”
“Let’s get outta here.”
Daystar turned away, and picked his way through the slowly diminishing crowd. He left the racers, and walked round the corner. Down the street, he saw the two cars waiting. As he drew near, Hakan got out of the car.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
“Yes, everything seems Ok,” Daystar replied. He walked over to the second car. Alex wound down her window as he approached her door.
“What’s happening?” she inquired.
“Someone is going to come and find us. Just keep following me, alright?”
“Ok.”
Daystar walked back to the first car, and got in. Hakan did the same, and turned to Daystar.
“Where are we going?” the imam asked.
“My friend has asked us to go back to his office with him. When we get there, we can speak to him properly.”
“So who is this guy?” Wizard asked from the back of the car.
“He’s an old friend of mine, from back before I joined the Resistance.”
Hakan raised an eyebrow. “Is he a criminal?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the reply.
Hakan frowned. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
Daystar looked Hakan in the eye. “Astral is one of the few people outside our group that I trust.”
Hakan held Daystar’s gaze for a moment. “Very well,” he said at length.
Daystar looked away, and stared down the street. A number of cars were driving across the top of the road, heading away from the meeting. After a while, they saw one of the departing cars turn, and head down to where they were parked. Daystar flashed the headlights at the approaching car, then turned key in the ignition, bringing his own car to life. The car in front of him slowed, and then flashed its own lights. The freedom fighters watched it turn around, and head up the way it had come. Daystar pulled away from the side of the street, and began following. He looked in the rear view mirror, and saw Alex following.

The Four Wheel Drift was a bar for racers and bikers. Its various neon lights filled its interior with a relaxed blue light, and the sign outside filled the street in a similar fashion. As the three car convoy drew near to the bar, the freedom fighters saw an army of motorbikes and cars parked in the street outside. Daystar wound down his window, and a soft thumping filled the car.
He watched as Astral turned his car off the street, and drove down a small driveway. Daystar followed, and so did Alex, and they found them selves in a private courtyard at the back of the bar. Astral parked the car next to another car that was sitting in the yard, and got out, Amy following suit. The other cars parked in the same fashion, and the cell members got out.
“I like what you’ve done with the place Astral,” Daystar said. “It looks much better than the dump I remember.”
Astral smiled. “Follow me upstairs to the office.” He walked quickly over to a door at the back of the bar, and opened it. Daystar followed, leading his friends over to the door. Astral stepped inside, and entered a small hallway with stairs on their right hand side, and two more doors on the wall facing them. Amy followed the group into the room, and shut the door behind her.
Astral headed up the stairs. “This way,” he said.
They arrived at the top of the stairs, and walked into a dimly lit room. Three leather sofas sat around a small coffee table, while behind them, was a large desk. Daystar smiled broadly as he saw the two figures of Julia and Kate standing over the desk, thumbing through a stack of money. They looked up as the group crowded into the room.
“Hi girls!” Daystar said warmly.
“Hi Day!” The response was equally warm.
Astral turned and looked at Daystar. “You gonna introduce us?” he said, looking at the rest of the cell members, who stood behind Daystar.
“Of course,” Daystar turned to face his companions. “This is Astral, guys. We go way back.”
“Hi,” Astral said, smiling at the tired looking group in front of him.
“This is our commander, Hakan,” Daystar continued, gesturing towards the imam.
“Hi Hakan,” Astral said, holding out his hand.
Hakan shook his hand curiously; he had detected an accent. “Pleased to meet you. You are American?”
“I am,” replied Astral. “I got stuck here when commercial flights were cancelled.”
“I see,” Hakan said. “My thanks for any help you can provide us with.”
“No problems,” Astral replied. “A friend of Daystar’s is a friend of mine.”
“This is Wasp,” Daystar continued, moving down the line, “Wizard, Shorty and Alex.”
Astral shook each of their hands in turn, and turned to the two women approaching from the desk. “This is Julia and Kate.” He nodded to the woman by the door. “You guys have already met Amy.”
Daystar smiled. “Ok, that’s the intro’s out of the way. Astral, you, me and Hak need to have a talk as soon as possible.”
“Sure, follow me, we can talk up on the roof. The rest of you guys can chill out here.” He led Hakan and Daystar out of the office, and up another flight of steps. Astral opened the door at the top, and the trio walked out onto the roof of the bar.
“So,” Astral said, looking Hakan in the eye, “how can I help your people Hakan?”
“We need shelter, and a base to operate from. Daystar said that you may be able to help, as you are old friends.”
“What has happened to make you come to me?”
“We were betrayed by one of our cell,” Hakan said. “Now, all our safehouses are potentially compromised.”
“Betrayed?” Astral’s face clouded over.
“Yes,” Daystar said. “One of our members is a captive of the Corporation. There is no chance of us rescuing our friend, but we want the man who grassed.”
“We cannot mount an operation until we have had rest though,” Hakan said. “Daystar, Wasp, Wizard and Shorty have all been on the move since this morning.”
Astral looked at his friend. Sure enough, the big guy looked ready to fall asleep on his feet. “I have a place you guys can crash,” he said, walking over to the rear of the building and looking down into the courtyard below. The others followed, and saw a door at the far end of the yard. “That,” Astral continued, “is a house I own. Has four bedrooms, so it’s ideal for you to use.”
“Thanks mate,” Daystar said gratefully.
Hakan looked up at the American. “Thank you very much.”
“Astral,” Daystar said, “would you be able to help us find this guy too? We could use someone with an ear on the street.”
“I will do that, and I can help you take him out too.”
“Gracias, amigo,” Daystar said.

[edit on 27-2-2005 by Daystar]



posted on Feb, 28 2005 @ 12:30 PM
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It's getting really cool!



posted on Mar, 7 2005 @ 06:46 PM
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That was great! **starts waveing small flag***

**starts chating** "DAYSTAR! DAYSTAR!"



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