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Daystar's ATS Story

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posted on Mar, 9 2005 @ 06:06 PM
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Chapter Twelve - Nemesis

London, England, May 22, 2024

Hakan stepped out of his room, and headed down the stairs, his Koran and prayer mat under his arm. Entering the kitchen, he found Alex, Wasp, Wizard and Shorty eating breakfast. Alex greeted him as he came into the room. “Morning Hak.”
“Good morning,” Hakan smiled at them.
“Morning,” Wasp and Shorty said, almost in unison.
“Good morning Hak,” Wizard replied. “Want some breakfast?”
“I will soon, I must pray first. Where is Daystar?”
“He said he is going up onto the roof.”
“How is he today?”
“Quiet,” Wasp said.
“I see,” Hakan said. “I will go and see him then. I’ll be back in a while.” He turned, and opened the back door, and stepped out into the yard. The warm sun shone down on him as he walked across towards the back of the bar; it was going to be a beautiful day in London, with not a cloud in sight.
Passing the garages to his right, Hakan saw that one of the garage doors had been opened, and inside, Astral was hovering over a motorbike. “Good morning Astral,” Hakan greeted him.
“Hi Hakan!” Astral dragged himself away from his bike, and walked over to the imam. “Did you sleep Ok?”
“I did, thank you. Do you mind if I pray up on the roof this morning?”
“Go ahead,” Astral replied. “Day is up there at the moment.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
Hakan walked away, heading for the bar. He opened the door, and climbed the two sets of stairs up to the roof.
As he stepped out into the sun again, he saw Daystar practising fighting by himself. Hakan watched as his friend leapt into the air, and threw a gigantic sweeping kick. As he landed, Daystar followed up with a flurry of punches.
“Impressive,” Hakan said. “You have been practising a lot.”
Daystar stopped, and looked across at his commander. “Good morning,” he said quietly.
Hakan advanced towards him. “I need to speak with you,” he said.
Daystar threw another punch at his invisible enemy. “About what?” he asked.
“About you and Mickey,” Hakan replied. He saw Daystar halt for a second, before throwing another punch.
“What is there to say? He betrayed us, and I’m gonna kill him.” He prepared to punch again, but stopped as Hakan placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Please,” the imam said softly.
Daystar dropped his fists down to his side, and faced Hakan. “Ok,” he said.
Hakan saw a group of boxes at the other end of the roof. “Let’s sit over there,” he said.
They walked over to the boxes, and sat down, side by side. They stared into the distance for a while, not saying anything. They saw the skyline of London directly in front of them, the Corporate Tower the tallest of the buildings.
“Hak,” Daystar said at length, “I’m sorry about going nuts yesterday.”
“You do not need to apologise,” Hakan replied. “You were all tired, and you were angry. Your reaction was understandable.”
“Maybe understandable, but not acceptable. I was out of order, and I am sorry.”
“Do not apologise,” Hakan said. “It is I who should be apologising to you and the others. You all saw what I couldn’t. You all knew Mickey was bad.”
Daystar glanced aside at him as the imam continued. “I hold myself personally responsible for what has happened to Andrew, and I hope Allah can forgive me, as I hope you can.”
Daystar looked down at the ground. “I forgive you. You were deceived. Mickey is the one who should be asking for forgiveness. Not that he will receive it.”
Hakan smiled weakly. “Thank you,” he said.
Silence engulfed them again, and they sat for a while, watching the bustling city stretching out before them.
“You realise,” Hakan said after a while, “that you are my second in command now?” He looked aside at Daystar, who nodded.
“Judging by what the others have told me about yesterday, I am confident you will do well as my lieutenant,” Hakan continued. “It took courage for you to do what you did for Mohammed.”
“Thanks Hak,” Daystar mumbled. “I feel different, though. I feel numb.”
“You had to shoot a friend. Nobody should have to do that, but you did it to stop his pain. You helped him.”
“I guess.” Daystar got up, and looked down at Hakan. “But my heart hasn’t realised that yet.”
Hakan got up, and looked Daystar in the eye. “It will soon. Trust me, my friend, you did Mohammed a favour.”
Daystar smiled. “Thanks Hak.”
“Now,” Hakan said, smiling back, “have you had breakfast yet?”
“No.”
“You had better have some then. I will join you after my prayers.”
“Ok.” Daystar turned, and walked away, disappearing through the door. Hakan looked up to the sun, shielding his eyes, before facing east, towards Mecca.

As it grew hot outside, Wizard and Shorty sought refuge in the air-conditioned haven that was Astral’s office. Entering the room, they found Julia leaning back in the chair behind the desk, a phone pressed against her ear. She smiled and nodded at the two freedom fighters as they entered the office, before continuing with her conversation.
“So you haven’t heard anything? Nothing at all? Ok, but keep your eyes open Ok? Thanks mate.” Julia turned the phone off, and put it on the desk. Wizard sat down on one of the sofas, and Shorty walked slowly over to the desk.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“We haven’t heard anything,” Julia said, an edge of frustration in her voice. “This guy has disappeared off our radar.”
“Crap!” Shorty said loudly.
Julia smiled at him. “We’ll keep asking around though,” she said.
Wizard got up from the sofa, and wandered over to the desk. “I might be able to find him,” he said quietly.
“How?” Julia and Shorty asked him at the same time.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think about this until now,” Wizard continued, almost talking to himself.
“What?” Shorty asked.
“I can look into the files for hotels and places like that.”
“How?” Shorty asked again.
Wizard nodded at the laptop sitting on the desk. “With one of them,” he replied.
“You can hack?” Julia raised an eyebrow.
“Yep.”
“Cool!” Shorty was impressed.
“Very cool!” Julia said. “Do you want this one to use?”
“No thanks,” Wizard said. “I have my own, and it has everything I need. I’ll go and get it, and then I can help the search.”
He turned, and walked out of the room. Shorty watched him leave, before turning back to Julia. “I didn’t know he could hack,” he said.
Julia laughed. “It’s always the quiet ones who are full of surprises.” She paused, and looked out the window. “Or the apparently crazy ones.”
“What do you mean?” Shorty asked.
“Nothing,” Julia replied, turning back to face him. “You want a drink?”
“Yeah, I could do with a drink thanks.”
Julia got up, and walked over to a cabinet in the corner. Opening the door, she revealed a refrigerator concealed inside, and pulled two bottles of fruit juice from inside.
“Here you go,” she said, passing one of the bottles to Shorty.
“Thanks,” Shorty said, taking the bottle. “So, how long have you been friends with Daystar?”
“Well,” Julia replied slowly, ”he used to part of our crew, until he met some guy called Andrew.”
Shorty looked at her closely, but said nothing.
“Andrew was a nice guy,” Julia continued, “but a little too political for my liking. Day liked him though, and they got on like a house on fire. When things with the military and the Corporation started getting really bad, Day said he had to leave us. We asked him not to, but he said it was for our safety that he left.”
“I see,” Shorty said thoughtfully.
“It was a shame, because he was a good member of the crew, even if he sometimes acts like he has a screw loose. I guess he had joined you guys though, right?”
“Yes.”
“Was Andrew with you guys?”
“He was, but he was captured.”
“Ah! Is this the guy that got dropped in it by this Mickey person?”
“Yes,” Shorty replied, an edge appearing in his voice.
At that moment, Wizard entered the room, carrying a laptop case. “Ok,” he said, placing the case delicately on the desk. “I can use this to help look for Mickey…” he paused, and looked at the others. “So where’s my drink?” he asked with a grin.

The day dragged on, slowly getting hotter and hotter. Gradually, everyone found themselves seeking refuge in the coolness of the office, or in the bar below. As was their habit, the cell members had turned their surroundings into a command centre of sorts, with a map covering the half of the desk that wasn’t being used.
Everyone was busy, or at least, some where pretending to be. Wizard was still busy with his laptop, Wasp was cleaning his rifle, Shorty played chess with Hakan, and Daystar was reading his favourite book, The Art Of War. Alex watched them all silently, whilst sipping a cup of strong coffee, a medical journal sitting on her lap. Julia was busy on the phone again, calling various people in search of clues as to Mickey’s whereabouts.
Wizard stared at the screen wearily, and stifled a yawn. He scanned the list on the screen, and froze as he saw a familiar name halfway down the page. He peered over the top of his laptop. “Guys? I think I found him!”
The quiet room suddenly buzzed into life, and in an instant, everyone crowded around the desk.
“Are you sure?” Shorty asked.
“How can you tell?” Wasp wanted to know.
“There might be loads of people called Mickey Hillier in London,” Alex reminded him
“Ssshhhhhh!” Wizard said. “This particular Mickey Hillier checked into this hotel last night, and he gave photo ID.” He tapped a few keys, then turned the laptop around, so the others could see. Mickey’s face stared back at them.
“Outstanding Wiz,” Daystar said. “Well done!”
What’s up?” Astral asked, strolling into the room.
“We found him,” Wasp informed him.
“Great!”
“When shall we hit him?” Shorty asked. “Now?”
“Tonight,” Hakan said. “You must get prepared before you do this.”
“Me and Amy will come with you guys if you like,” Astral offered. “I hate people who grass.”
“Your help would be greatly appreciated, Astral,” Hakan replied.

Mickey strolled out of the hotel, towards the waiting car. The cool evening was a pleasant change to the heat of the afternoon. He got in the driver’s side, shut the door, and pulled away from the front of the hotel.
He concentrated on the road ahead, and saw the traffic lights ahead turn red. Mickey slowed to a stop, and watched the traffic move across the junction in front of him.
Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt in the lane next to him, its rear passenger windows level to his driver’s side window. Curious, Mickey watched as the window slowly opened, and he recoiled as he saw a familiar face. He ducked as the menacing shape of a Desert Eagle was thrust from the window, and floored the accelerator.
Daystar smiled, and fired into the car. Shorty appeared from the sunroof of the car, and fired down into the roof of Mickey’s car as it sped away. Astral slammed his foot down and they followed Mickey across the junction.
Behind them, in a second car, Amy, Wasp and Wizard followed, Wasp standing up out of the sunroof like Shorty, his MP7 in hand.
Mickey pulled himself back up in his seat, and steered the car through the traffic ahead. He looked in his wing mirror, and saw his pursuers closely behind. His view was interrupted as a bullet slammed into the mirror. Mickey gulped, and faced forwards.
Amy swung her car out from behind Astral’s and tried to move up the side. Mickey saw it coming, and pulled out in front of her. Wasp took the opportunity, and filled the back of Mickey’s car with lead. Mickey ducked down again as the bullets annihilated his rear windscreen, and switched lanes again.
Shorty offered no kinder treatment, and emptied a magazine into the car. Daystar, leaning out of the rear window, followed suit.
Mickey gasped as a bullet whistled past his ear, and frantically scanned the street ahead for something that could help. A large sign ahead indicated a multi-storey car park was close. Mickey threaded through the traffic, and swung into the car park, crashing through the barrier. He swung the car around the car park, zipping past rows of cars, making his way slowly towards the top level.
Upon reaching the top, he found the level had relatively few cars. The surrounding skyscrapers provided a faux galaxy of stars to the night sky, and added to the illumination given by the lights of the car park. Mickey headed for where the cars where parked.
He looked up, and saw something in his rear view mirror. Wasp stood next to one of the pursuing cars, taking aim with a rifle. A flash, a report, and Mickey lost control of his car, as a bullet shredded his tyre. Mickey slammed his brakes on, but still smashed into one of the parked cars.
Wasp grinned, and got back into the waiting car. The two cars drove forwards, stopping a short distance from the car. Piling out, the freedom fighters surrounded the traitor’s heavily damaged vehicle, Astral and Amy covering them from the cars.
Daystar walked slowly up to Mickey’s door, and wrenched it open. Mickey was leaning back in his seat, his hand massaging his neck. He looked up at Daystar.
“Let’s you and me have a conversation,” Daystar said. He stepped away, leaving the door open.
Mickey slowly dragged himself from the car, and faced Daystar. “Move,” the younger man said, ushering Mickey along with his pistol. Mickey complied, and the pair headed for the edge of the car park, the other cell members following a few paces behind.
Daystar suddenly stopped, whilst Mickey continued on a few paces, before turning and looking back. Daystar lifted his pistol, and pointed it at Mickey.
Mickey felt the panic rising. He had to try something. “Can’t we talk about this?”
Daystar smiled. A smile Mickey had never seen his former associate use before; a thin veil over intense hatred. The gun lowered a few degrees, and fired.
Mickey cried out as the powerful bullet ploughed into his shoulder. He staggered back, before falling backwards. Daystar advanced, raising the pistol again.
Mickey clutched his shoulder, blood pouring from between his fingers. He looked pleadingly past Daystar at the other members of the group. Wasp’s eyes where cold, unforgiving. Wizard’s where full of quiet anger. The pair’s faces however, were blank. Shorty however, was almost looking down his nose at Mickey, as though the wounded man was something Shorty had just scraped from the bottom of his boot.
Mickey tried to pick himself up. He made it to his knees before another idea presented itself. He looked up at Daystar. “Look man, I have money! I’ll give you a nice cut!”
Daystar switched his aim again, and fired, hitting the hand that clutched Mickey’s wounded shoulder. Mickey cried out again, as the bullet tore through his hand, and entered his already damaged shoulder. The hand fell away from the shoulder, and landed on Mickey’s lap.
“Do you know what nemesis means?” Daystar asked. “A righteous infliction of retribution, manifested by an appropriate agent.” He turned away from the fallen man, and walked the few paces to where his friends where reloading their sidearms. He turned to look at Mickey again, and took aim with his pistol. His comrades raised their weapons.
“For all your treachery, you can now die on you knees,” Daystar said.
The group opened fire, and didn’t stop until they had emptied their magazines. The gunfire eventually subsided, and Daystar turned away.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly.

[edit on 9-3-2005 by Daystar]




posted on Apr, 2 2005 @ 08:27 PM
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Chapter Thirteen - Elimination

Henry was losing patience. He pulled the spike from his prisoner’s shoulder, and grabbed him by the jaw, pressing his thumb and forefinger into Andrew’s cheeks.
“You think this is bad?” he spat into the freedom fighter’s face. “This is gonna last weeks! I’ll even give you a blood transfusion myself if it means you stay alive a little longer!”
Andrew looked Henry in the eye, a mixture of pain, tiredness, and anger in his eyes. “When… when they… get you, they’re going… to kill you…”
“Who?” Dennis asked, stepping towards Andrew.
“Think of me… when… my people kill you…” Andrew’s head fell forward as the pain induced unconsciousness.
Dennis smiled. “It seems that Mr Carter didn’t fulfil his contract!”
“Which means he stole that money,” Ken observed.
Henry span round to face them. “Then take him out, before every merc on the payroll starts taking liberties!”
“I’m on it,” Dennis replied.
“Get his friends too,” Ken said.
Dennis pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialled a number. “McPherson? It’s Pierce. I want a tactical unit ready to go ASAP, and I want them on standby until further notice. And get Intel over to my office. We need some people found.”

Agent Smith sat in the Commander’s office, listening to the Commander summarizing the situation. Beside him, West fidgeted. Smith looked at the rookie from the corner of his eye. Moron, he thought, before returning his attention back to the Commander.
“We have lost the terrorists, but you did the right thing as far as getting the CCTV footage analyzed is concerned,” Yeates said, mostly for West’s benefit. “We have circulated the pictures, and our tactical analysts are going over the film.”
A knock on the door caused Commander Yeates to stop. He issued a booming “Enter”, and watched as the door opened. Agent Patel strode into the office, carrying a sheet of paper.
“Sir,” the Agent said, “we just received a call from a Detective Holloway. The terrorists are back in the MCZ.”
He passed the piece of paper to the Commander. “They checked security cameras after a shooting in a car park, and identified the terrorists wanted for the Romanov hit as being responsible for this incident.”
Never trust the military to do an Agent’s job, Smith reminded himself.
Yeates scanned the sheet of paper, before looking up at the men before him. “It says the victim was an informant. Perhaps he sold information on the wrong people. Patel, work with this Holloway, and find out who the grass was linked to.” Yeates looked at Smith. “I want you to get these people. Dead or alive. Do whatever it takes.”

“Well listen, you two,” James said, “if you ever have a job and you need a hand, give me and CJ a call, Ok?”
“Of course,” Sonja replied.
“I will, Jim,” Nick answered. “I best be off anyway. See you guys around.” The others said their goodbyes, and Nick disappeared into the Tube station across the street.
Sonja smiled down at the two men sitting in the car. “Take care guys,” she said. She shut the door, and walked away down the street.
Carl pulled out into the street, and sent the car rolling forward. Carl smiled as he reminded himself for the millionth time that he was rich. He could afford to live it up for a while. Like the little celebration the four mercenaries had enjoyed last night. He could definitely use more fun like they had had last night.
He leaned forward, and turned on the car’s stereo. Loud.
“Christ Carl!” James complained. “Turn that down will you? I’m still paying for the drinks from last night!”
Carl’s smile grew. “Awww… the tough Agent can’t handle his drink?”
“Former Agent has a hangover, and he is willing to share the headache!” James smiled through gritted teeth. “C’mpn, turn that down.”

Daystar breezed into the office, smiling broadly, his comrades in tow.
“Is everyone Ok?” Alex asked.
“Everyone is!” Daystar beamed.
“And how are you?” Hakan asked, a thin smile spreading across his face.
“I am buzzing! Hey, whoever said revenge doesn’t satisfy was either lying, or they got greedy, and wanted more than revenge could give.”
“Ok…” Alex grinned at him.
“Ignore him, he’s been crazy all the way back here,” Shorty said as he crashed out on one of the sofas.
“Back to his old self then,” Wizard said with a laugh.
“Your crew runs a slick operation, Hakan,” Astral said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you, Astral,” Hakan replied.
“So… when do we go after Carter?” Daystar asked. “For all we know, he may be coming after us still, and it would be rude not to say hello.”
“I was waiting for someone to mention him,” Hakan said. “We’ll hit him tomorrow. But only if we can get him away from his friends.”
“How do we find him?” Shorty asked.
“We tagged his car,” Wasp replied, “right Day?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I should be able to find him,” Wizard said.
“We’ll need a backup crew for this,” Daystar said thoughtfully, “if this Carter is really that tough.” He looked aside at Astral and Amy. “Fancy it?” he asked them.
“Of course,” came the reply.

London, England, May 23, 2024

Nick stepped out of his front door, closing it behind him. Another sweltering day in the capital looked likely, and Nick was glad he had nothing to do. A quick trip to the shop at the end of the street, and he could afford to relax for the rest of the day, comfortable in his air conditioned house, safe from the heat.
He strolled down the shaded side of the street, humming a tune quietly to himself. He quickly came to the end of the street, and ducked into the shop. His was greeted with a smile by the shop’s owner.
“Good morning, Nick!” Abdul said warmly.
“Morning Abdul,” Nick replied. He approached the counter, some classic Kashmiri folk music filling his ears as he drew close. “How’s things today?” he continued.
“It’s been quiet. Probably too hot for people to come out,” Abdul mused, his smile growing broader. “So, what can I get you?”
“Just the paper, thanks,” Nick said. He reached for one of the newspapers that sat on the counter, but stopped as he read the headlines. ”The Pope is missing?!” Nick exclaimed.
“It’s all over the news,” Abdul informed him.
“Bloody hell!” Nick picked up one of the newspapers, and read aloud. “The whereabouts of the Pope were still unknown yesterday according to Vatican sources. The Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith insisted that there was no evidence of foul play and that despite the preconceived notions of certain conspiracy theorists the disappearance has nothing to do with recent information transmitted from Vatican astronomers based in the Antarctic. Until such time as the whereabouts of the Pope are discovered, the duties of Supreme Pontiff will be performed by the cardinal secretary of state.”
“Good job I’m not catholic,” Abdul commented.
“Me neither, but I reckon this will mean trouble for everyone.” Nick fished about in his pocket, and paid Abdul. “Anyway mate,” he said, “I’ll see you later.”
“See you later Nick.”
Nick folded the paper up underneath his arm, and strolled at a leisurely pace out of the shop. He stopped suddenly as something caught his eye. He turned to his left slightly, and saw them; six black-clad Corporate soldiers, advancing slowly towards him, weapons raised.
Nick dived forward instinctively, just before they opened fire. Nick picked himself up, and found himself in between two parked cars. He reached round to the back of his belt, and pulled out an old Browning Automatic. He cocked it, and poked it round the side of the car in front. He squeezed off a few rounds, but ducked back as the advancing soldiers opened fire again. Glass flew as the bullets crashed through the car’s windows, and a rattling was heard as more bullets hit the car’s body.
Nick waited for them to stop, before pushing the gun around the corner of the car again. He fired twice more, but stopped as he felt the barrel of a gun being pressed into his head.
“Bollocks!” Nick snarled.
The man behind him pulled the trigger, and Nick fell forward, dead before he hit the ground.
“Excellent job,” said one of the other soldiers, stepping round the car. He pulled a phone from his pocket, and dialled a number. “Mr Pierce?” he said as the phone was answered. “McPherson here. Sullivan is down. Proceeding to Radchenko.”

Sonja strolled through the market, just another face among the hundreds that filled the street. Around her, countless people picked their way through the maze of stalls, selling everything from clothes and food, to household implements.
She came to a corner, and turned, shooting a glance down the path she had just taken, as was her custom. She made a mental note of who she saw, then continued down the street, peering at the stalls as she passed, but finding nothing to her liking.
Sonja sighed, and looked up into the sky. It was getting too hot, and she decided to get back home before it got really nasty.
She came to the end of the row of stalls, and turned the corner again. She looked sideways once more, and stopped for a split second. She recognised three of the people heading towards her. That was the fourth time she had seen them just behind her; three men wearing all black, with sunglasses. Something was about to happen.
Sonja looked forward, and froze as she saw a black van sitting just across the street, three more of the sinister characters leaning up against it. They saw her as she saw them, and they began advancing towards her. She stepped back, and looked aside at the men following her. They were closing in fast. Sonja had to do something.
She pulled her Glock from her belt, and fired two shots into the air.
Around her, the civilians reacted naturally. Some screamed, some threw themselves on the ground, and yet more tried to run for it, causing a stampede. Sonja took cover among the fleeing people, as the crowd tried to squeeze out of the narrow pathways in between the stalls and onto the street. Behind her, the Corporate hitmen charged into the crowd, giving chase.
Sonja eventually forced her way out onto the street, and found the other three men waiting. She pulled up her pistol, and opened fire. One of the men fell as a bullet hit him in the chest, while the other two threw themselves aside.
Sonja took the opportunity, and sprinted past them. She ran towards the van, intent on making it her getaway vehicle. Behind her, the trio that had been following her, finally spilled onto the street, pistols in hand. They took aim, and fired.
Sonja suddenly felt herself spin as a bullet hit her in the arm. She lost her balance, and fell over. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she rolled onto her back, and returned fire.
The Corporates dived for cover, and began shooting indiscriminately in Sonja’s general direction. A man screamed as he was caught in the deadly crossfire, and fell, a bullet wound to the back.
Sonja dragged herself up, and continued towards the van. But her journey was cut short as she was hit in the leg. She cried out, and fell again, her gun slipping from her hand.
The gunfire stopped, and Sonja watched them advance from the stalls they had been hiding in. They moved slowly towards her, pistols raised. One of them stopped at their fallen man, and gave a thumbs up to the others.
“He’s Ok! Bullet didn’t go through.”
Sonja swore under her breath. She had been hoping to at least take one of them with her. She watched as the fallen man was helped up onto his feet, but switched her attention as she noticed the other four were now standing round her.
She looked up, squinting against the sun, and sighed. “Just get it over with quickly, arsehole,” she said in resignation. She closed her eyes as one of them took aim at her head.
McPherson fired, and turned away. The phone appeared in his hand again, and he dialled the number. “Radchenko is down. Proceeding to Jones.”

Reading, England, May 23, 2024

Carl sat at the bar, clutching a glass that held the remnants of a pint of lager, listening to the lamdlord spinning a tale.
“So, this prat walks in, right, dressed in a bloody suit!” Frank said. “He orders a scotch, so I sorted him out. He flashes this Corporate ID at me and says bill them! Cheeky bastard!”
Carl snorted with laughter. He took a mouthful of beer, then looked up at Frank. “What happened then?”
“I told him to get knotted. So the little pillock starts largin’ it, sayin he could have me squashed. I laughed in his face, and told Duane to show him to the door.” Frank nodded at the six foot five frame of Duane, who was serving at the other end of the bar. ”Duane was very polite,” Frank continued. “He picks the guy up, and carries him over to the door. He stops, and asks this really good lookin’ girl to open the door for him!”
Carl laughed out loud.
“I swear,” Frank said, struggling to keep a straight face, “I couldn’t stop laughing! The guy landed on his arse outside, and he hasn’t been back since!”
“Too funny man!” Carl said. He downed the rest of his pint, and put the glass on the bar. “Anyway, I gotta go. How much for the pint, Frank?”
“Two quid.”
Carl fumbled around in his pocket, and closed his hand around his wallet. He looked Frank straight in the eye. “I don’t have any money on me. Can you bill the Corporation for me?”
Frank roared with laughter. Carl pulled out his wallet, and paid him. “I’ll see you boys later,” Carl said. “Take care Frank.”
“Laters CJ,” Frank replied, trying to stop laughing.
Carl walked out of the pub, and into the pub’s car park. He headed over to where his car was parked. He opened the door, and was about to climb in, when a black van roared into the car park, its side door open. Two Corporate soldiers leaned from the side of the van, and they opened fire.
Carl ducked, and climbed into the car. He put the key in the ignition as a second burst of gunfire slammed into his car’s rear. “Start you piece of crap!” he yelled at the car.
The car roared into life, and Carl floored the accelerator. The car flew out into the street, narrowly missing several other vehicles. Carl spun the wheel, and sent the car tearing down the street. He looked up at his rearview mirror, and saw the van giving chase.
He steadied the car, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He had to warn James, just in case the Corporates were after him too. Carl dialled the number, and put the phone next to his ear. He swore out loud as the phone bleeped and ran out of power. He slammed the phone down onto the passenger seat, and concentrated on the road ahead. The only thing he could do now was to try and reach James before anything happened.



posted on Apr, 2 2005 @ 09:46 PM
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Very nice story daystar!! nothing like a couple mafia style killings to get your day going.



posted on Apr, 2 2005 @ 09:48 PM
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Another good chapter daystar



posted on Apr, 3 2005 @ 03:34 PM
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Originally posted by Sugarlump
nothing like a couple mafia style killings to get your day going.


did it go well with your cornflakes? lol



posted on Apr, 7 2005 @ 08:58 PM
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Nice.....Loveing it man loveing it!




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