Welcome Back, Mr. Nightcrawler

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The following events take place after NC's ransacking of Adar's compound...

#########


The house was too quiet. I should have known something was wrong as soon as I saw the front gate left open.

“Somebody beat us to it,” I said into the radio as I surveyed the destruction in the living room. .45 brass rolled under foot, and the room stank of unburned powder, and the recently dead.

“What do you mean?” Carl’s voice said in my ear.

“I mean that the guards are dead, and the place is shot to hell. Somebody’s been here already.”

“Did they get the vault? If those no good thieves got the vault, I swear I’m gonna—“

“Dude, we are no good thieves. Chill.” I moved quickly through the room, careful not to step in any of the spreading puddles. The spent magazines on the ground told me the shooters had used UMPs. Interesting, as I had not seen any of those in Qatar before. Could this be the work of the same hitters what had screwed up phase one?

Doha had gone insane since then. Over the last few weeks there had been shootings, bombings, and all manner of craziness. Normally Qatar was a quiet place, but now there were blue uniformed SF troops on every corner, and random checkpoints set up by the Qatari secret police. There was a war going on, and it was making life difficult for us honest criminals.

I suppose I could call myself an honest criminal. I had tried being a regular criminal, but I found that I didn’t have the stomach to lie to and steal from normal folks. Terrorists on the other hand had lots of money, were fun to lie to, and nobody seemed to mind when I occasionally killed them. And it was easier to sleep at night since I was able to tell myself that I used my sociopathic tendencies for good.

“I bet it was those guys that almost botched phase one.” There was a single .45 case at the top of the stairs, and a dead guard with a third nostril hole. I approached the bedroom door quietly, my suppressed M4 at the ready, EoTech reticle floating just under my vision, though I had a sneaky feeling that Adar wasn’t going to be a problem. The bedroom door slowly swung open. I must have made some sort of strange noise into the radio.

“Lorenzo? What is it? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. But… wow. It’s a bloodbath in here.” I hadn’t seen anything like this since Chechnya. Somebody had gone all Boondock Saint on Adar, and it was obvious that he had deserved it. The safe had been cleaned out, and I felt a sinking feeling in my gut that what we had come for was already gone. The shooters had missed something though…

“No time for that. Find that vault. Hurry before somebody else shows up.”

“One second.” Having years of experience looking for bugs and planting them, I knew that most people would have missed Adar’s hidden camera. Apparently he liked to record his torture sessions. I followed the wire back behind the bed and found the DVD recorder. It was still running. Maybe this would tell me who our mystery shooters were. I took the DVD and hurried back down the stairs.

By some miracle the vault was closed, and still locked. I could hear Carl doing the happy dance when I informed him. Why had someone gone through all of this work, only to leave the important stuff behind? This was not making sense. I could think about it later, but phase two was in jeopardy right now.

I made quick work of the lock, and the massive door opened with a creak. There it was, a stainless steel box about the size of a pack of cards. It felt abnormally heavy as I shoved it into a pouch on my armor. “Got the box, Carl. I don’t see the code book.”

“We can’t sell it without the code book. We’ve already spent millions to come this far, we need that book. If we don’t find it, Big Eddie is gonna kill us.”

“Yeah, I know,” I answered, already heading for the exit, knowing with dread certainty that the code book had probably been taken from the upstairs safe by the shooters. Carl wasn’t exaggerating. If we could not complete phase three of this job, then we were dead men walking. I made sure the DVD and the box were still in place. Those shooters had my book, and I was going to get it back no matter what.

"Lorenzo, you better hurry."

"What?"

"Two cars full of bad guys pulling in to the compound. Run."

##

To be continued...
 
Oh, WHAT a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

What lays ahead for our heros?

Will their paths cross peacefully or just in pieces?


Don't miss the next episode of Qatar's Funniest Home Videos
er, um, I mean... both chilling sagas...




Doctor Doctor Gimme The News!

or

Who's Got A Code In Their Knows!
 
BluesBear, you posts are almost as good as the story.:D

I grew up watching Rocky and Bulwinkle.

NC and Correia,

Great Stuff! Are you two colaborating, or are you writing two seperate but intertwining stories?

I am e-mailing this thread to a few writer-friends of mine from college because it is such an interesting way of telling a story.

keep up the good work.:D
 
Seperate but intertwining. This is NC's baby, so I just asked for his permission to play in his world, and then to keep me a little bit more up to date than you guys so I don't do anything with my posts to screw up his overall story arc.
 
Yeah, Correia and I are collaborating. For me, someone wanting to write in a world that I've created is utter, ego-inflating flattery, so he's welcome to it.

My story will be able to stand alone, but there will be an "appendix" of sorts, with chapters written by Correia and myself, detailing the crossover.

The current story arc goes until the protaganist comes back to the US, landing at LAX like he did at the beginning of the story.

After that...there might well be a whole 'nother adventure involved. The character has not completed his development yet and I've got to tell his story until he does.

The second part will take longer to tell, probably, as my updates become a bit more sporadic. Once every few days or so you'll see the thread pop back up to the top with an update. I've been off this week, so plenty of time for writing.

Tomorrow I work, having to get up at four (and thusly go to bed early), and I'm stone tired, so probably no update tonight. Tomorrow evening maybe. I might smuggle a floppy disk to work and bang away at the keyboard on the computer there. :D

In the meantime, I'll let Correia do his thing. :cool:
 
And I'm enjoying doing a little low pressure writing online, because I've spent so darn much time trying to get my book published, and reworking it to make finicky publishers happy, that it has taken all of the joy out of writing. :)
 
What would be really cool is putting both of these characters into one book. (Correa and nightcrawlers) kind of like tarantinos movies of two characters that are following the same strory line but never really meet up till the end...
 
Spent the last 40 minutes glued to my laptop, this stuff is great! Please keep it coming and let us know when it's coming out in softcover.
 
Now I remember why we missed you Nightcrawler. Your fiction rocks. Welcome home!
 
....

I like it! Please keep it coming. Although I never understood why people write online fiction....if you wanted to get this published...some one one could have already plagarised (sp?) it!:(
 
Im sure we can be trusted here as we respect the writer and his writing but Im not so sure what would happen if somebody else stumbled upon this board.
 
IP law

I'm sure somebody more erudite will jump in later.

Here's my understanding: by publishing on line here, our daring authors have already published, with full copyright protection under the law. The servers can provide the date stamp. The story stealer can get served with a strong cease and desist letter or even some kind of injunction.

The next question is money. That's a horse of a whole another color.
 
[edit]Below was thinking the "prosecutor web-trawling if 'Crawler ever has to defend himself" problem. Copyright, I believe yy has nailed it. CAUTION: IANAL/TVL/SL/BRL/any other kind o' lawyerin' scum--next to them, we rattlesnakes are the top rung of the evolutionary ladder... This is not legal advice and is worth exactly what you paid for it.

But for 'Crawler in the event he ever has to defend himself--[/edit] Simple solution: We ask Oleg and the Mod Team to add a "Member Fiction" section and move 'Crawler's threads like this over there. Sticky a disclaimer about "This section is for our would-be fiction authors. EVERY THREAD IN THIS SECTION IS FICTION AND NEVER REALLY HAPPENED; ANY SIMILARITY TO ANY REAL PERSON OR EVENT IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL." Maybe even set up an automatic header on each thread like the "Editor's Notes" you see in online editorials every so often.
 
Diamondback6

the problem isnt that they think he actualy did this stuff. but that it shows a "negative" side of his personality should he be in court. they will show the court these storys and try to play him off as some nut job, ChairBorne ranger. makes him look too gung ho
 
########


I crouched near the rear exit, my pulse pounding in my ears. The door was open, and the arriving cars headlights illuminated the back wall of the compound. Sweat poured down my back in the brutal night heat. Gravel crunched as the cars pulled to a stop, and doors opened. Someone began to sing, drunken and off key. Adar must have been planning a party, and the guests had just arrived.

Not wanting to find out what kind of people a terrorist invited to a torture party, I tried to think of a way out. Something. Anything. If I made it to the back wall, I would surely be spotted before I could scale it. I could try to Rambo my way out, but from the noises coming from the yard there were several bad guys.

“Carl, how many we got?”

“Couldn’t tell. It was too dark when they pulled in. Want me to try a diversion?”

“Hold on that. I’ve got an idea.” I moved quickly back into the home. The door bell rang, long and raspy, and someone on the other side laughed. I had seen the fuse box near the vault. The bell continued, the user obviously becoming frustrated. I pulled my pack off, removed my night vision monocular and strapped it onto my head. In another pocket was a small explosive charge. I squished it into the box, and placed a detonator into the clay.

The ringing quit, and loud knocking started. The laughter was gone, and now voices called out with some concern. The radio initiator blinked green in my hand, we had contact. The charge would only kill the lights in this house, but hopefully this would be enough of an edge. I moved back towards the side entrance.

Now they were pounding on the front door. I pulled a frag from one of the MOLLE pouches on my armor, and staying low so as to not blot out the light coming through the key hole, slid up to the door. I pulled the pin, but carefully kept the spoon down until it was wedged tightly against the door’s base plate. The grenade had a five second fuse, and it would be one heck of a surprise for our party guests. It’s those little touches that show you care.

Back towards the side door now. The pounding turned to kicking. I kept moving, wanting to get some space between me and that frag. The side door was in view, the rear wall of the compound visible through the portal, still illuminated in the headlights. A shadow moved on the back porch, a man with a gun. They were coming. I flipped down the monocular, and the view for one eye turned a pixilated green.

“Adar!” one of the men on the back porch shouted. The front door cracked and splintered on its hinges.

“Hide and seek time.” I took a deep breath and mashed the detonator.

There was a muted thump as the house plunged into darkness. My world was now a super illuminated green. I raised the M4 to my shoulder, realized that I had not switched the EoTech to night vision mode as the optic appeared blindingly fuzzy, cursed under my breath, pushed the button to turn it down, and moved my hand back to the grip. Behind me the front door crashed open.

Five.

A man in a suit and headdress moved through the rear entrance into my sight, blinking stupidly, Makarov held before him like a talisman to ward off evil.

Four.

I flipped the selector to semi, and pulled the trigger twice, the dot of the EoTech barely moving as it bounced across his torso. The OpsInc can was deadly silent, but the bullet still made a very audible CHUFF CHUFF noise.

Three.

I moved forward, side stepping, gun still at the ready, slicing the pie, more of the back porch swinging into view. The first man was still falling. A second man was behind him, looking surprised in my pixilated world, lifting his Tokerov sideways, gangster style. The holographic reticle covered his face. CHUFF.

Two.

There was movement behind me, the rest of Adar’s guests piling into the entry way, surprised by the darkness, a few random gun shots rang out as they attacked the shadows.

One.

The concussion of the grenade was sharp inside the structure. Even with a few walls between us I could feel the impact in my eyeballs. Gliding over the bodies of the men that I had just shot, I took the corner slowly, watching for movement.

Two figures, highlighted against the lights, standing in front of the fancy fountain. Easy targets. The M4 met my shoulder, but I stopped. Only one of the targets was a man, the other was female. The man had a subgun in one hand, and a rope leading to the bound wrists of the women. He was staring, slack jawed, at the smoking front door of Adar’s home and his moaning and screaming companions.

Having seen that poor girl up stairs, I just reacted. I flipped the selector to full auto. The man never knew what hit him as I stitched him from groin to neck in one burst. He stumbled back, falling into the fountain with a crimson splash, jerking the rope, and sending the girl sprawling. I dropped the mag and reloaded as I scanned for threats, trying to break the tunnel vision. Clear.

Instead of heading for the back wall, I sprinted towards the captive. She appeared to be in a state of shock, probably a young Phillipina. I’m a killer, and a thief, and a con-man, and a hired gun, but I was not a monster, and in Qatar, girls like this were treated like slaves or worse.

“Come with me,” I said in Arabic, helping the girl to her feet, then quickly switching to Tagalog, “Come with me now, these men will kill you.” She looked at me, stunned or bewildered.

“Lorenzo, what’s happening?” Carl’s voice was tense.

“Pick me up at the front gate.” I replied tersely. “We need to go, lady.” I gestured with my gun in the direction to move. “Now!”

“You’re an American!” she shouted in English. “Oh, thank heavens!”

“Uh...” that was unexpected. “Yeah, I’m here to rescue you, or something...”

The van barely slowed as I shoved the still bound girl into the back and climbed in after her. I slammed the door as Adar’s compound shrank in the distance.


######

To be continued.
 
Holy Sex Slave Batman We've saved a hostage...
No Robin... you can't keep her.





ooops wrong show :eek:

uurmph, cough cough

[voice=William Conrad[COLOR="Purple"]]Once again our hero has saved th...[/COLOR]



cough




Once again, one of our heros, has saved the day!


But who is this mystery woman?
What is her place in the grand scheme?
Will she solve the secret of the Abandoned Mine?
Will she make him a sandwich?
Will the Nightcrawler be mesmerized simply by her gaze?

Of course he will. :banghead: He's Nightcrawler for Pete's sake.


Don't touch that dial!
Stay tuned and don't miss our next bone chilling episode..
.



Dime A Dance Romance

or

It's My Party And I'll Die If I Want To



[/voice]
 
We want more, lots more, PLEASE. It's like watching the last episode of 24 and having to wait till next season for more!
 
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