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    Plot of the Verquilette

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    Ranger 50

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    Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Ranger 50 on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:18 am

    Well, I decided to post up a story myself =P It's not really a whole story, just a little intro I put together a few years ago. It's obviously nowhere near Mez's standard, but hey, one day I might get there >:D

    Plot of the Verquilette

    It was at the hotel lobby where I first l saw them.
    My name is Oliver Jackson. I’m seventeen. I did go to school, one of those crappy public ones, but after I set fire to half the English department I didn’t think the school would be too happy, so I kicked myself out. I landed myself a job as a hotel assistant - and here I am now, in the lobby of the Crown Hotel (sounds fancy, but not even a wealthy businessman would come within sniffing distance), swiping the floor with a dry mop. That was when two men entered. That was when my life changed forever.
    Nobody would think twice about two men, looking to be in their late twenties coming through the main entrance of a hotel. But men with black suits, dark shades, and polished Gucci’s, men who gave the impression that they would kill you as soon as look at you? That might draw some stares. Furthermore, the walking stance of these men was definitely out of the ordinary. Each foot balanced to support their center of gravity, each step unusually light for such burly builds. These guys radiated power just as strong as a footballer would emit BO. All in all, you could describe them in a few words; they were not to be messed with.

    I kept up my pretense of being busy. It wasn’t difficult, seeing as my shitty job didn’t exactly invite me to continue it willingly. But I did try and watch the men as they progressed through the almost empty lobby and neared the front desk. The female receptionist looked up, appearing irritated at having been interrupted through Lord of the Flies.
    “May I help you, sir?”
    Both of the men took their shades off in one fluid movement. It was like watching two robots do the same thing, in unison. The tallest of the pair stepped forward. He was clean shaved, with a crescent-shaped mark stretching from the jaw line to his cheekbones. I thought of him as Scar. “We would like to book a room for the night.” His voice was cold, and contained a trace of malice.
    “M-kay,” I heard a few short taps, which I knew came from the keyboard sitting in front of her. “We have two rooms available at the moment. One has been reserved for a special guest, and the other is a single-bed room. I am sorry, sir, but seeing as I don’t think that the two of you would be comfortable with a single-bed, and as the other room as already been reserved, we cannot book you a room.”
    “What about the reserved room?” This time it was the other man who spoke. He had a thick silver watch on his wrist, the kind you see in fashion magazines. He would be Rolex.
    “Uh, sir, the reserved room is unavailable – like I told you, it has already been set aside for a special guest.”
    “I see.” Scar glanced back at his partner, who gave the tiniest of nods. Scar pulled something from the inside of his jacket. A black handgun. I froze in horror, as he drew the weapon and in one fluid movement, shot the woman through the head. She was flung back, as chunks of brain and streaks of blood sprayed in all directions. She hit the wall and collapsed, leaving a glistening smear of red on the wall behind her.
    I felt sick. I was sure I was about to puke. My muscles liquidized, and I loosened my grip on the mop. It hit the polished marble with a clatter. Scar turned round. His eyes met mine. I yelped. It was like staring into two pools of utter black liquid, two dark chasms that threatened to suck you in for eternity. Scar raised the gun, the same gun that had murdered a woman in cold blood. I did the one thing I knew I had to do. I ran.

    My white plimsolls squealed as I pelted across the lobby. I crashed through the revolving front doors and stumbled onto the pavement outside. Without breaking pace, I turned left and sprinted as hard as I knew possible. I didn’t care whether the men had followed me. All I knew was that I had to get away from them.
    I almost fell flat on my space as I sprawled over a buggy, but I soon regained composure. I turned again and tore down an alleyway. My thoughts whirled. What kind of man walks into a hotel, asks to book a room, and then shoots someone? What sort of—I slammed into a building, and collapsed onto the pavement. Seeing stars, I glanced up, and almost bit my tongue off in terror. It was Rolex. He had appeared out of nowhere.
    “Going somewhere?” His voice was as malicious as his partner’s, only this time it contained a tone of amusement.
    I threw a punch up at his groin area. It was a feeble attempt, and Rolex intercepted the hit, and in a heartbeat he had hauled me up and had twisted my arm into an excruciating arm-lock. The pain was agonizing. I had to bit my lip to prevent the tears that threatened to cascade over my face. I looked around furtively trying to detect any passerby’s, but there was nobody in sight. Rolex drew a switchblade from his pocket, and swiped it up to my neck. It lingered there, centimeters away from my windpipe. His voice whispered in my ear. “Walk forwards, very slowly. Don’t try anything stupid. Unwanted movements will cause you an unhappy and agonizing death.” He pushed me slightly forwards, and I had no choice but to start walking.

    We weaved and criss-crossed through streets and alleyways, always pausing to hide whenever someone neared. It was dark by the time we neared the Crown Hotel. The No Vacancies sign had been hung up, and by the looks of it, all the hotel staff had been rounded up and sent home. The lobby was deserted, save for Scar himself lounging in the corner of the room, where a group of armchairs sat around a coffee table. He had his feet up on the table and was reading the Times. He must have heard our entrance, because he set aside the newspaper and sat up straight. He inclined his head at me, and gestured for me to sit. I didn’t want to think about his previous intention of shooting me, and as I sank into the black leather, a small smile of amusement played on Scar’s lips. Rolex stood behind me, obviously watching my every movement.
    “Now, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jed Luther. I see you have already acquainted yourself with my brother, Kyle.”
    “O–Oliver Jackson.” I felt annoyed at my stuttering.
    “A pleasure to meet you. Oh yes, I forgot. To you we have other names, don’t we? Scar and Rolex, perhaps? To be honest, they are pretty satisfying names. Don’t you agree, Kyle?”
    I felt my eyes widen with shock. I was sure I had never uttered those names out loud, but how in god’s name did he know about it? Could he read minds? I almost felt naked, at the thought of a murderer being prone to my every thought.
    Jed laughed. “Well, I suppose you could describe it like that.”
    Yeah, he could definitely read minds.
    “But anyways. We do not have time for idle chit-chat. We have some important business to complete, but seeing as we have stumbled upon an obstacle we might aswell have dealt with it first.”
    I gulped at the word obstacle.
    “Kyle, the case, if you will.”
    I turned round to see Kyle pull out a large leather briefcase from behind an armchair. I hadn’t seen the pair carrying it with them into the hotel, but I was beginning to believe that anything was possible with these two. Jed’s smile broadened. He took the case, placed it flat on the coffee table, and unclasped the metal straps. He swung the lid open. I wanted to catch a glimpse of the contents, but suddenly Kyle had placed a hand on my shoulder, as if he had known my intentions. The pressure was light, but firm. It sent a clear message – I wasn’t allowed to see what was in the case. The hold released as Jed took out a brown file, like the ones you see in the movies, with TOP SECRET on the cover. From inside the file he pulled out a white sheet of paper, with writing on both sides. He placed the file back in the case, and in a second Kyle had stowed the briefcase back in to its original place.
    Jed spoke. “Now, where should we begin? Ah, yes. Mr. Jackson, would you mind having to answer a few questions?”
    He might as well have said ‘I’m going to ask you some questions, whether you like it or not’. “No,” I replied, relieved that some normality had crept back into my voice.
    “Thank you. Right... You are seventeen, yes?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
    I didn’t bother disguising the truth. “I left, after I set fire to one of our school buildings back in fifth year.”
    I practically jumped out of my seat as Jed burst out laughing. His voice ricocheted through the room, leaving my ears ringing. Even Kyle laughed a little. He explained for me. “Jed did practically the same thing to get kicked out of his school.”
    “Wait, so he also set fire to a school building?”
    “Well, not exactly. He, um... Jed blew his school up.”
    “What!?”
    Jed took over. “Mathematics class… Teacher was collecting in the trigonometry projects,” He growled. “Bitch gave me stick because I didn’t do mine.”
    I couldn’t believe my ears. I mean, I wasn’t exactly a fan of my maths teacher either, but I didn’t go around blowing up schools just because of it.
    “What– No, how did you um, you know, ‘blow’ your school up? C4? Gelignite?”
    “Triacetone triperoxide.”
    “...You what?”
    “Explosive. A neat little compound… highly inflammable.”
    My brain felt numb with disbelief. Here I was, having a little chat with a man who had blown up his former school with a homemade explosive. I wasn’t sure whether my sanity had left me or not.
    “Anyways. We have driven a little off-topic.”
    “Right.”
    “May I continue with this ‘questionnaire’?
    “Uh... Go for it.”
    “Do you live with your parents?”
    “My—my parents died when I was little.”
    “So you have been living on your own ever since?”
    “Well, no. I had this sort of housekeeper.”
    “I see. Is he, or she still with you?”
    “She left to the States. Couldn’t handle the stress after my ‘school incident.’”
    A phone went off. The ringing came from Jed’s jacket. He spoke briefly, before accepting the call. “Excuse me… Jed Luther. Ah, my friend. How has it been, these past few months? Didn’t the institution give you a hard time over at headquarters? Ah, I see. Not to worry, old fellow. We’ll regain control over the district region in no time. Hah, point taken. But the recruitment process is certainly slowing things down, especially with the Plyferus code having turned out to be a red herring. Yeah, yeah. Mhm, of course those fanatics would wonder. Uh, nope. But I’m sure…”
    I had no idea what he was talking about. Sure, it was a phone call, but it all sounded so fancy, so like the language they would use in government agencies such as the CIA. I didn’t know that for sure, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of normal conversation where you’d discuss over which groceries to buy at the weekend at Tesco’s. My attention was abruptly caught when Jed suddenly sat up bolt upright. His face was a mask of emotions.
    “… You what! So do you mean that… Oh shit, shit, shit. I gotta go, kay? I’ll see you later.”
    He ended the call. He stood, and beckoned Kyle over with a flick of his head. Straight away Kyle was at his side, and they started talking in hushed whispers. I couldn’t hear the whole thing, but I did catch out some snippets of their conversation.
    “…Coming for us right now... Current position detected by triangulation… Launch behind schedule…You go first…”
    I knew something was wrong. I began to fidget, tapping my fingers on the sides of the armchair, a thing I also do when I’m nervous. The exchange lasted for about two minutes, and then in a heartbeat Kyle was running, the leather briefcase in his hands. Despite the change in state of affairs, I watched, fascinated, as Kyle loped through the lobby, and out onto the street outside. He reminded me of an alley cat. Jed was already at my side, yanking me up. He muttered under his breath. “We have to hurry. I would just leave you here, but–“
    I heard a zooming sound, the kind of noise you hear from fighter jets. Then the world split in two. There was an ear-splitting BOOM, and the glass-paneled door, along with all the other windows around the lobby exploded. Shards of glass flew everywhere, as part of the wall caved in. Three of the four plant pots at each of the four walls burst into flames, along with the plants themselves. There was a crack from above, and I looked up just in time to see a huge block of masonry hurtling down towards me.
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    Sold Out
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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Sold Out on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:19 am

    For a short moment I was worried you wrote that in the last ten minu--- waaait a minute, you TYPED that in the last ten minutes. DUDE.


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    Avocado lad

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Avocado lad on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:22 am

    Too lazy to read.
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    Mezkiel

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Mezkiel on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:24 am

    Ranger 50 wrote: It's obviously nowhere near Mez's standard, but hey, one day I might get there >:D

    Made my day there :D!

    also awesome story I WANT MORE BISH! XD

    @sold why do you think he did it in the last 10 mins!
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    Xin

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Xin on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:28 am

    Cuz he was online for 10 minutes.
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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Sold Out on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:31 am

    @ Because he posted it ten minutes after reading your story.


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    Mezkiel

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Mezkiel on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:33 am

    maybe he had it on his pc aaaaaaaaaaaages ago then posted it after eading mine, i had this one aaaaaaaaaaages ago aswell
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    Ranger 50

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Ranger 50 on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:41 am

    Oh, no, obviously I didn't do that in the last 10 minutes. Like Mez said, I just dug up an old file on my lappy which I'd wrote a few years ago.
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    Xin

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Xin on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:42 am

    really?
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    Ranger 50

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    Re: Plot of the Verquilette

    Post by Ranger 50 on Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:44 am

    Yes, really, what else do you think I did? Rip it off the web? And honestly, it's not even that good. Anybody could do that.

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