there were more asteriks in those last two segments than any other.
Just an observation. I THINK that's what meef was trying to say.
Just an observation. I THINK that's what meef was trying to say.
Welcome Back, Mr. Nightcrawler
- Thread starter Nightcrawler
- Start date
- Status
Dr. Rob:
I can't help myself sometimes. Irreverance is one of my major faults (although my friends - few that they are - describe it as just being an unbridled smartass [or smart***]).
I DO really, really like the story, make no mistake about that. It's currently my favorite thread here. Two exceptionally capable and talented writers working in unison - what a treat!
Yup.
I can't help myself sometimes. Irreverance is one of my major faults (although my friends - few that they are - describe it as just being an unbridled smartass [or smart***]).
I DO really, really like the story, make no mistake about that. It's currently my favorite thread here. Two exceptionally capable and talented writers working in unison - what a treat!
Nightcrawler
Member
You guys have obviously never heard me talk in real life. The asterisks are not an exxageration.
One of Melinda's traits is that she's particularly foul mouthed. As you can see, she uses the F-Bomb as a comma.
One of Melinda's traits is that she's particularly foul mouthed. As you can see, she uses the F-Bomb as a comma.
Nightcrawler
Member
Requiem
So this is what you're reduced to, Mike. Taking hostages. I looked over at the woman, tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth, and tried to convince herself that it was different, that that wasn't what was going on.
It really was different. This woman, Loretta Willis, was Gordon's wife, apparently, and I had no intention of hurting her. I just needed her to shut her cake-hole for a while, and the only way to get her to do that was duct tape. I began to wonder whether marrying this harpy was a byproduct of Gordon's evil or the cause of it.
She mumbled something loudly through the tape, and I walked back over to her. She winced as I removed the tape from her mouth.
"What now?" I asked.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said. The demanding tone and hint of moral outrage told me that this woman was used to getting her way.
"Fine, go," I said, replacing the tape. "It's your house, lady." Her eyes widened, and she delivered what I'm sure was a swath of obscenities, but they were muffled by the duct tape.
We were in Gordon's study. It was very nicely decorated, and contained a computer with a huge flat-screen monitor. I fired it up and got online. Checking various news sites, I found what I was looking for.
There was a file photo of Gordon Willis. The headline, under an icon of a flashing red and blue police light, read, 'Did this man abandon American operatives to die in Qatar? Developing...'. It also contained a link to one of the mirror sights for downloading the file, so I thoughtfully downloaded it for Gordon and brought it up.
My head popped up when I heard a car in the driveway. I killed the lights in the den, and closed the door. I heard a key hit the lock, and someone enter through the front door. My heart pounded as I heard footsteps make their way towards the den.
"Loretta?" a voice asked. "Are you in here?" The door opened slowly, and the voice continued, "You said you were going to make me dinner. It's almost midnight, so where's my..." He froze when I turned on the light, and Gordon Willis found himself looking down the suppressor tube of my Colt .45. His eyes were wide, and his jaw fell open. I smiled.
"Who...who are you?" he asked. My smile disappeared.
"Back against the wall. BACK AGAINST THE WALL! Over by the computer!. MOVE GOD DAMN IT! Put your hands on top of your head. Put your hands on top of your ****ing head! KEEP 'EM WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM!" Gordon sheepishly complied, his face pale and his expression shocked. He was backed against the wall, facing me, with his hands on his head. I stood there holding my pistol on him with my left hand, right hand at my side.
A moment later, a look of recognition came onto his face. I smiled once again.
"It's you..." he said quietly. "You're dead!"
"You'll have to do better than that, Gordon."
"Look....Forty-Seven...Nightcrawler! Nightcrawler, we can work this out. Let's be reasonable. I'm happy that some of you made it out of there alive. I feared the worst when I heard the news, and was ordered to write the whole thing off." He lied convincingly. Well, why not? He did it for a living.
"Shut your ****ing face, Gordon. You know God damned well you were the one that sold us out to the Qataris. Do you know how many of my friends got killed?" He was silent for a moment.
"I can pay you. It doesn't have to be this way. We can't change the past, but how does a hundred thousand dollars sound? We can work it out!"
"Her name was Sarah, Gordon."
"What? Who?" My expression hardened, and I swiped off my pistol's safety.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" Gordon yelled, hands waving around. "There's got to be..."
"SHUT THE **** UP, GORDON!" I yelled. I could tell he and the wife deserved each other.
"Fine," he said, lowering his hands and narrowing his eyes. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. "If that's how it's going to be, that's how it's going to be. I won't beg. You're not going to get away with it, you know. You don't know what you're ****ing with, Forty-Seven. Even if you do kill me, you won't get far. I have powerful friends, and they will find you. They'll find everyone you're close too, as well."
"Everyone I'm close to is dead, Gordon," I said very quietly.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked me, still obviously believing he could negotiate his way out of it. "Avenging your fallen comrades? Some girl? Let me tell you something about your so-called comrades, Forty-Seven. Most of them were criminals. No one will miss any of them." It took everything in me not to kill him just then. "But you, you've got promise. If you're willing to let the past be the past, my organization could use a young man of your obvious talents. You'd be well paid, and we'd do everything we could to make amends for the past."
In the back of my head, I wondered if he was seriously making me an offer. As I said, he was a convincing liar.
"So," I said, trying to maintain my calm smile, "The Association is making me a job offer?" Gordon's face froze, and went pale.
"How did you..."
"Look at the computer, Gordon." He did so, and he went from pale to white.
"What...what is this? What the **** is this?"
"Big Boss gave me the info the night the Qataris came," I said quietly. "And I gave it some friends of mine. It's all over the internet now, Gordon. And it's everything about Project Heartbreaker. Go ahead, read a little. I'll wait."
He slowly sunk into his desk chair and began to read. He read the article and began to read the huge file I'd downloaded to his computer. He didn't say anything, but his expression was priceless.
"Everyone's gonna know, Gordon," I said. "The whole world's gonna know. You and your ****ing friends are finished."
"Is that what you think, you insolent little traitor?" he asked me, looking up. "Do you have any idea the damage you've done to national security? Do you have any ****ing idea what you've done? Do you? Do..." he was cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing.
"Let it ring," I said. It continued to do so. A moment later, one, then a second house phone joined the chorus, and his pager went off.
"Sounds like your friends want to have a word with you!" I said, grinning. A fax belched out of his fax machine. He read it as the phones continued to ring, then slowly let it drop to the floor.
"I should add that your entire file, inlcuding home address, is included in the download. You should be hearing from the press shortly." Gordon didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring at the screen, eyes wide. He looked like he was going into shock.
"What have you done?" he asked, almost in a whisper. After that, he slowly turned his head to me, eyes still wide, face still white. In one smooth motion, he reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a Sig 229 pistol. I reacted, stepping back and gripping my pistol with both hands. Gordon brought the pistol up, pressed the muzzle against his temple, and shot himself in the head.
My ears were ringing, Loretta was screaming through the duct tape, and there was blood all over the wall. Gordon's body was slumped over his desk, blood pouring into his keyboard. His pistol had landed on the carpeted floor with a thud.
I stood there, frozen, holding my pistol on his corpse. That was about the last thing I'd expected to happen, and...well, I was pretty shocked myself. Moving slowly, I safetied my pistol, unscrewed the suppressor, and holstered it. I tucked the suppressor in a pouch on my right hip, and turned around.
Loretta was looking at the floor, sobbing, eyes shut tightly. I looked down at her for a moment, then left the den. I walked out of Gordon's house and back into the warm night air.
Gordon had been right about one thing, though. I didn't get far.
TO BE CONTINUED...
So this is what you're reduced to, Mike. Taking hostages. I looked over at the woman, tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth, and tried to convince herself that it was different, that that wasn't what was going on.
It really was different. This woman, Loretta Willis, was Gordon's wife, apparently, and I had no intention of hurting her. I just needed her to shut her cake-hole for a while, and the only way to get her to do that was duct tape. I began to wonder whether marrying this harpy was a byproduct of Gordon's evil or the cause of it.
She mumbled something loudly through the tape, and I walked back over to her. She winced as I removed the tape from her mouth.
"What now?" I asked.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said. The demanding tone and hint of moral outrage told me that this woman was used to getting her way.
"Fine, go," I said, replacing the tape. "It's your house, lady." Her eyes widened, and she delivered what I'm sure was a swath of obscenities, but they were muffled by the duct tape.
We were in Gordon's study. It was very nicely decorated, and contained a computer with a huge flat-screen monitor. I fired it up and got online. Checking various news sites, I found what I was looking for.
There was a file photo of Gordon Willis. The headline, under an icon of a flashing red and blue police light, read, 'Did this man abandon American operatives to die in Qatar? Developing...'. It also contained a link to one of the mirror sights for downloading the file, so I thoughtfully downloaded it for Gordon and brought it up.
My head popped up when I heard a car in the driveway. I killed the lights in the den, and closed the door. I heard a key hit the lock, and someone enter through the front door. My heart pounded as I heard footsteps make their way towards the den.
"Loretta?" a voice asked. "Are you in here?" The door opened slowly, and the voice continued, "You said you were going to make me dinner. It's almost midnight, so where's my..." He froze when I turned on the light, and Gordon Willis found himself looking down the suppressor tube of my Colt .45. His eyes were wide, and his jaw fell open. I smiled.
"Who...who are you?" he asked. My smile disappeared.
"Back against the wall. BACK AGAINST THE WALL! Over by the computer!. MOVE GOD DAMN IT! Put your hands on top of your head. Put your hands on top of your ****ing head! KEEP 'EM WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM!" Gordon sheepishly complied, his face pale and his expression shocked. He was backed against the wall, facing me, with his hands on his head. I stood there holding my pistol on him with my left hand, right hand at my side.
A moment later, a look of recognition came onto his face. I smiled once again.
"It's you..." he said quietly. "You're dead!"
"You'll have to do better than that, Gordon."
"Look....Forty-Seven...Nightcrawler! Nightcrawler, we can work this out. Let's be reasonable. I'm happy that some of you made it out of there alive. I feared the worst when I heard the news, and was ordered to write the whole thing off." He lied convincingly. Well, why not? He did it for a living.
"Shut your ****ing face, Gordon. You know God damned well you were the one that sold us out to the Qataris. Do you know how many of my friends got killed?" He was silent for a moment.
"I can pay you. It doesn't have to be this way. We can't change the past, but how does a hundred thousand dollars sound? We can work it out!"
"Her name was Sarah, Gordon."
"What? Who?" My expression hardened, and I swiped off my pistol's safety.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" Gordon yelled, hands waving around. "There's got to be..."
"SHUT THE **** UP, GORDON!" I yelled. I could tell he and the wife deserved each other.
"Fine," he said, lowering his hands and narrowing his eyes. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. "If that's how it's going to be, that's how it's going to be. I won't beg. You're not going to get away with it, you know. You don't know what you're ****ing with, Forty-Seven. Even if you do kill me, you won't get far. I have powerful friends, and they will find you. They'll find everyone you're close too, as well."
"Everyone I'm close to is dead, Gordon," I said very quietly.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked me, still obviously believing he could negotiate his way out of it. "Avenging your fallen comrades? Some girl? Let me tell you something about your so-called comrades, Forty-Seven. Most of them were criminals. No one will miss any of them." It took everything in me not to kill him just then. "But you, you've got promise. If you're willing to let the past be the past, my organization could use a young man of your obvious talents. You'd be well paid, and we'd do everything we could to make amends for the past."
In the back of my head, I wondered if he was seriously making me an offer. As I said, he was a convincing liar.
"So," I said, trying to maintain my calm smile, "The Association is making me a job offer?" Gordon's face froze, and went pale.
"How did you..."
"Look at the computer, Gordon." He did so, and he went from pale to white.
"What...what is this? What the **** is this?"
"Big Boss gave me the info the night the Qataris came," I said quietly. "And I gave it some friends of mine. It's all over the internet now, Gordon. And it's everything about Project Heartbreaker. Go ahead, read a little. I'll wait."
He slowly sunk into his desk chair and began to read. He read the article and began to read the huge file I'd downloaded to his computer. He didn't say anything, but his expression was priceless.
"Everyone's gonna know, Gordon," I said. "The whole world's gonna know. You and your ****ing friends are finished."
"Is that what you think, you insolent little traitor?" he asked me, looking up. "Do you have any idea the damage you've done to national security? Do you have any ****ing idea what you've done? Do you? Do..." he was cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing.
"Let it ring," I said. It continued to do so. A moment later, one, then a second house phone joined the chorus, and his pager went off.
"Sounds like your friends want to have a word with you!" I said, grinning. A fax belched out of his fax machine. He read it as the phones continued to ring, then slowly let it drop to the floor.
"I should add that your entire file, inlcuding home address, is included in the download. You should be hearing from the press shortly." Gordon didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring at the screen, eyes wide. He looked like he was going into shock.
"What have you done?" he asked, almost in a whisper. After that, he slowly turned his head to me, eyes still wide, face still white. In one smooth motion, he reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a Sig 229 pistol. I reacted, stepping back and gripping my pistol with both hands. Gordon brought the pistol up, pressed the muzzle against his temple, and shot himself in the head.
My ears were ringing, Loretta was screaming through the duct tape, and there was blood all over the wall. Gordon's body was slumped over his desk, blood pouring into his keyboard. His pistol had landed on the carpeted floor with a thud.
I stood there, frozen, holding my pistol on his corpse. That was about the last thing I'd expected to happen, and...well, I was pretty shocked myself. Moving slowly, I safetied my pistol, unscrewed the suppressor, and holstered it. I tucked the suppressor in a pouch on my right hip, and turned around.
Loretta was looking at the floor, sobbing, eyes shut tightly. I looked down at her for a moment, then left the den. I walked out of Gordon's house and back into the warm night air.
Gordon had been right about one thing, though. I didn't get far.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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DRZinn
Member
Nightcrawler
Member
Epilogue
I didn't know where I was, or precisely how long it'd been since my arrest. All I knew is that I was in a windowless concrete cell illuminated by an insufferable fluorescent light that buzzed maddeningly and drove you up the wall once you noticed it. Worse, they never shut the damned thing off.
There was a toilet and a sink against one wall, and a bunk against the other. I laid there, arm over my eyes, wearing an orange jumpsuit and shoes with no laces.
Still, though. I supposed that my luck had to run out sometime. I felt good inside, though. Gordon and his cronies had been exposed, Gordon was dead by his own hand, and I...
Deep down, I realized that I had made the decision not to kill Gordon. The fact that he took the initiative in this regard was nice, but if he hadn't he'd still be alive. For the first time in a long time, I'd changed my mind about pulling the trigger. Really, I just wanted to be there to gloat when his little empire came tumbling down, and I wanted him to know that I was responsible.
I had Melinda to thank for that. Everyone else I'd encountered had been so busy feeling sorry for me that no one bothered to give me the boot in the ass I very badly needed. But Melinda had, and...
Well, despite the fact that I was in prison and would probably be quietly eliminated, I felt good. So I laid there on my bunk, arm over my eyes, tears streaming down my face as I decompressed.
This went on for some time. If nothing else, though, I'd proven to myself that I wasn't a monster, and that was important. Regardless, I felt incredibly empty inside.
I don't know how long had passed when I heard boots tromping down the hall. There were three people, I could tell. I was startled when I heard them unlock my cell door, but I didn't get up and I didn't take my arm off of my eyes. I really didn't give a **** who it was.
I heard the door slam shut, and realized that I was no longer alone in the room. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of me. I sat up, replacing my glasses, and was surprised at what I saw.
There stood a man in an immaculate Army dress uniform. His trousers were bloused into gleaming combat boots, hash marks went halfway up his left arm, and his chest was covered in ribbons and badges, including Airborne and HALO. His sleeves bore Sergeant First Class stripes, and he had SPECIAL FORCES and AIRBORNE tabs on his shoulders. He held a green beret in his right hand, tucked neatly under his arm. Conspicuously missing was a name tag, but I recognized this man.
"Sergeant First Class Dave," I said flatly, repeating what Gordon had told me more than a year before, "Special Operations Command. You're about the last person I expected to show up here, but...well, ****, I suppose they were gonna interrogate me sooner or later. Let's get this over with."
"Well," he said, grinning from behind his moustache, "I am gonna debrief you, but first let's talk about getting you out of here."
"I'm listening."
END.
I didn't know where I was, or precisely how long it'd been since my arrest. All I knew is that I was in a windowless concrete cell illuminated by an insufferable fluorescent light that buzzed maddeningly and drove you up the wall once you noticed it. Worse, they never shut the damned thing off.
There was a toilet and a sink against one wall, and a bunk against the other. I laid there, arm over my eyes, wearing an orange jumpsuit and shoes with no laces.
Still, though. I supposed that my luck had to run out sometime. I felt good inside, though. Gordon and his cronies had been exposed, Gordon was dead by his own hand, and I...
Deep down, I realized that I had made the decision not to kill Gordon. The fact that he took the initiative in this regard was nice, but if he hadn't he'd still be alive. For the first time in a long time, I'd changed my mind about pulling the trigger. Really, I just wanted to be there to gloat when his little empire came tumbling down, and I wanted him to know that I was responsible.
I had Melinda to thank for that. Everyone else I'd encountered had been so busy feeling sorry for me that no one bothered to give me the boot in the ass I very badly needed. But Melinda had, and...
Well, despite the fact that I was in prison and would probably be quietly eliminated, I felt good. So I laid there on my bunk, arm over my eyes, tears streaming down my face as I decompressed.
This went on for some time. If nothing else, though, I'd proven to myself that I wasn't a monster, and that was important. Regardless, I felt incredibly empty inside.
I don't know how long had passed when I heard boots tromping down the hall. There were three people, I could tell. I was startled when I heard them unlock my cell door, but I didn't get up and I didn't take my arm off of my eyes. I really didn't give a **** who it was.
I heard the door slam shut, and realized that I was no longer alone in the room. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of me. I sat up, replacing my glasses, and was surprised at what I saw.
There stood a man in an immaculate Army dress uniform. His trousers were bloused into gleaming combat boots, hash marks went halfway up his left arm, and his chest was covered in ribbons and badges, including Airborne and HALO. His sleeves bore Sergeant First Class stripes, and he had SPECIAL FORCES and AIRBORNE tabs on his shoulders. He held a green beret in his right hand, tucked neatly under his arm. Conspicuously missing was a name tag, but I recognized this man.
"Sergeant First Class Dave," I said flatly, repeating what Gordon had told me more than a year before, "Special Operations Command. You're about the last person I expected to show up here, but...well, ****, I suppose they were gonna interrogate me sooner or later. Let's get this over with."
"Well," he said, grinning from behind his moustache, "I am gonna debrief you, but first let's talk about getting you out of here."
"I'm listening."
END.
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Nightcrawler
Member
I want to thank everyone for their support and encouragement. I'd like to thank Oleg for allowing me to do this once again, and a special thanks goes out to Correia for making this a lot more interesting.
You all make sure you buy Correia's book now, okay? He should be along with one more story update, though, so stay tuned.
I hope you enjoyed it. If not, look at the bright side. It's free! Besides, you read it, you can't un-read it. Nyah!
I am especially grateful to those of you who donated to my paypal account. I never expected such generosity, but I am grateful for it. You guys paid my internet bill for a month, with change left over for dinner! That was so cool.
THR has got to be one of the best audiences a guy could ask for.
You all make sure you buy Correia's book now, okay? He should be along with one more story update, though, so stay tuned.
I hope you enjoyed it. If not, look at the bright side. It's free! Besides, you read it, you can't un-read it. Nyah!
I am especially grateful to those of you who donated to my paypal account. I never expected such generosity, but I am grateful for it. You guys paid my internet bill for a month, with change left over for dinner! That was so cool.
THR has got to be one of the best audiences a guy could ask for.
END?!?!!?!?!?!!
Ouch. I think I missed a step coming down that staircase.
Who is Sgt. Dave? How did he get into this? And why can he get Nightcrawler out of it? Did I miss something in the first few episodes, or is he in one of your previous stories, or what? I'm soooooo confused......
Springmom
Ouch. I think I missed a step coming down that staircase.
Who is Sgt. Dave? How did he get into this? And why can he get Nightcrawler out of it? Did I miss something in the first few episodes, or is he in one of your previous stories, or what? I'm soooooo confused......
Springmom
Nightcrawler
Member
From Chapter 3: Foreign Exchange
Terriffic!!!!
This is my first post on this thread but I felt it was time to say something.
If you two guys can't get published, it will be a cold day in Hell. You are both fantastic storytellers. Congratulations!!
Now it's time for you to get started on a sequel!!!!!
This is my first post on this thread but I felt it was time to say something.
If you two guys can't get published, it will be a cold day in Hell. You are both fantastic storytellers. Congratulations!!
Now it's time for you to get started on a sequel!!!!!
Nightcrawler
Member
I know it was kind of a "the butler did it!" moment, but it'll make more sense in the cleaned up Director's Cut version.
The_Future
Member
i will be the first to say and I have no shame in doing so:
SEQUEL!!!!!
SEQUEL!!!!!
Thanks for a great read Nightcrawler, you are a heck of a writer, as well as Correia. His book is on the 'to get' list as soon as it's available.
Will be waiting for the sequel, or additions to your previous stories.
Thanks again.
Will be waiting for the sequel, or additions to your previous stories.
Thanks again.
Cliff47
Member
All rise for a standing ovation for Mr. Nightcrawler. Here, Here....
As I said before ... RIPPING GOOD READ!!!
As I said before ... RIPPING GOOD READ!!!
sm
member
Nightcrawler,
Thank you sir!
Correia,
Thank you sir as well!
I wish you both the very best on your works being published.
Steve
Thank you sir!
Correia,
Thank you sir as well!
I wish you both the very best on your works being published.
Steve
ChopperKen
Member
Thanks for the great read Guys!
Get it published I want a copy!
Correia, Will you be signing copys of your book for us?
Thanks again
Ken
Get it published I want a copy!
Correia, Will you be signing copys of your book for us?
Thanks again
Ken
usp_fan
Member
Fantastic read. Thanks guys--although now my wife is accusing me of an internet addiction.
--usp_fan
--usp_fan
Nightcrawler
Member
Ask your wife to read the story.
the 22 junkie
Member
AWESOME! : O
fiVe
Member
Bravo! Bravo!
VERY well done, NC.
MUCH thanks.
VERY well done, NC.
MUCH thanks.
Awsome story telling. Now that I have the last two sections copied and printed I have to go work a few hours before I can read it at leisure.
You have got to publish this book. I know you have some cleanup and will have to add snipets to explain some characters.
Your flashbacks to Sarah belong where you wrote them. I would not move them very far if you do. Ok gotta go drink the coffee and replace a v-lan of switches.
You have got to publish this book. I know you have some cleanup and will have to add snipets to explain some characters.
Your flashbacks to Sarah belong where you wrote them. I would not move them very far if you do. Ok gotta go drink the coffee and replace a v-lan of switches.
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