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Who knew posting up old PC files could be such fun? Here's another story intro I wrote in my early highschool days.
The Youth Fraternity
The building shook slightly as the paint bucket fell and smashed through the fragile wood structure of the scaffolding and hit the pavement at the bottom. Three floors up, a builder swore loudly. His companion shook his head with contempt. After all, he was only a trainee, on his first building assignment. But he didn’t know that he would mess up so soon.
Brad apologized to his partner. “Sorry mate, I didn’t know it was there … and I just sort of … tripped.”
Pete glared at him. “Well I would’ve reported that to the office … But since it’s your first assignment I’ll let you off. Just this time.”
Brad sounded relieved. “Thanks buddy, I owe you one.”
“That’s alright. I need to fix one of the doors on the fifth floor, so you take care of yourself.”
“Yeah, good luck.” After making sure Pete had gone out of sight, Brad walked cautiously towards the edge of the scaffolding platform they were currently on, as if he was afraid of knocking over anything else. Three floors below, he could see a giant splat of red paint all over the pavement. At least nobody’s around, he thought. But he was wrong. Suddenly Brad heard a single footstep against the rough stone below, echoing all around the street. He jumped. He spun around and walked over to the opposite side of the platform. And he noticed someone. A boy. Dressed almost entirely in black, he looked about thirteen years old. Brad shrugged. Just another teenager roaming about, he thought. But then he noticed something else. The boy’s eyes. Two black whirlpools that seemed to hold his gaze forever. Brad was taken aback. There was something in those eyes which wasn’t entirely normal, as if they showed things that no ordinary boy should show. Briefly, Brad was reminded of two days ago.
He was crossing Galthon Square, getting ready to receive his first building assignment from the office. But nearby, he had noticed several teenagers lurking silently around. They weren’t talking. They didn’t even seem to be moving. But one of them had watched him as he walked. He remembered how he had felt unsettled and uneasy. These kids aren’t what they seem, he had thought.
And they certainly weren’t.
Brad, who had been slightly hesitant at first, but afterwards with self-reassuring, had crossed over to those teens, and had asked what they were doing.
“What are you doing here? What is your business?”
Silence.
“Why are you not talking? Answer me, boy, what are you doing here?”
Even more silence.
Brad remembered how he had ground his teeth in frustration, and had turned away, not willing to show his anger. But when he had turned back round, he had been shocked. The boys had disappeared. There was no sign of them at all. Brad did a 360, spinning around, trying to catch sight of them, but they weren’t to be seen.
This boy that stood below him, he noticed, was also of that same kind. Withdrawn and silent, but showing an air of danger about him. This boy was the same. He was one of them.
But once again Brad, in his ignorance, thought him strange, but of no harm. He’s just lonely, he thought, trying to ignore the strings of unease settling in his stomach.
He called out, “What do you want, boy?” No answer. “I asked you a question young man, and you will give me an answer!” The boy stood still, silent like the stars in a black night.
But then the boy started walking, as if to continue on his way. Oh, Brad thought. Nothing so eccentric about him after all. But there was something wrong. If the boy had continued under the scaffolding, then he should see him going out the other side. But there was no sign of him. The only possibility was, he had stopped underneath. Brad felt suddenly aware of the silence all around him. It engulfed him, overwhelming him. He was suddenly afraid. There was something very sinister about to happen, he thought in panic. He felt his face burn with fear and felt his heart thump louder than ever against his sweaty chest.
Silence took hold of the next several seconds.
He heard it before he felt it. A whoosh of air – almost inaudible. Suddenly there was a searing pain through his chest. Brad screamed. It was like being burnt with a hot iron poker. The pain scorched through him. His nervous system felt as if it was on fire. He managed to look down, and the sight he saw stunned him. Half a knife blade was sticking out of his chest, exactly where his heart was located. Blood was pouring out, coating the 6 centimetre long blade of steel. Brad gasped. He couldn’t breathe. But what he had also seen was astounding. Turning around, he saw the boy. The same boy which had stared up at him, the same boy who didn’t speak. Thoughts fleeted through his head like butterflies. How could this be possible? How could the boy have been able to get up to the third floor of a building’s scaffolding structure in less than ten seconds? Who is this? What is this?
He looked up once more into the swirling black whirlpools. They were the last things he ever saw.
The ambulance arrived an hour later, just after Pete, having heard Brad’s screams, had rushed down to investigate, only to find his partner with a knife sticking out of him. Hurriedly he had dialed 999 and had just given them the location of his whereabouts, when he had been suddenly flung backwards. The ambulance crew found him with a gaping round bullet hole in his forehead. His phone was still in his hand.
There was no trace of the teenager. The forensic team, who had arrived moments after the police, had not been able to find any fingerprints of any sort on the knife, or anywhere on the dead corpses.
Headquarters
A figure in dark garments headed off into a remote alleyway off the south corner of Trathenon Road. He stealthily made his way towards an unused, ancient church which was in serious need of repair. His name was Jason Gray. As he walked, his footsteps made no sound. His whole stance was agile, as if ready to spring at any moment. He was cautious. He was searching for any sign of pursuit. After all, there could have been anonymous pedestrians that could have followed him after his brief hit. Quickly, Jason checked his mobile phone. A box popped up on the screen. New Message. Read? The text was short. Target Terminated? His reply was even shorter. Yes. After waiting the brief moment for the sending to finish, Jason shut his phone and slipped it in his pocket.
The church had once belonged to a famous catholic priest, who had but recently died of a heart failure. Afterwards, it had fallen into disrepair. But for Jason and his team, the location was perfect. Jason was a newly recruited member of the YF, the Youth Fraternity. His recent mission had been his first, a test as a new recruit. The YF was a team solely consisting of teenagers. Their sole purpose was money. They would receive a contract, and would perform the elimination. Their recruits were only those who made no mistakes. Those who had no conscience. Those who were ready, and willing to kill people they didn’t even know about, people that could have been innocent. It had been founded by a sixteen-year old who was probably the most dangerous teenager to have existed.
David Jones had never known his mother. His dad had given him a hard time for as long he could remember, but that wasn’t for long as he had shot and murdered him with a Walther-PPK pistol at the age of 11. The pistol he had pick-pocketed off a policeman trying to investigate a recent bombing in a school playground. Nobody knew that it was David who had planted the explosives. They couldn’t link his dad’s death with him either – he had already disappeared.
Jason arrived at the church door. He saw the withered surface, the gnarled wooden doorknob, and the rotten strands of ivy hanging overhead. But that wasn’t what he was looking for. There was a crack in the wall next to the door. Any passerby wouldn’t have given it a second glance, but of course Jason knew its real purpose. A keyhole. From a piece of string around his neck, he retrieved a long but thin, pointed stone. Well, it looked like a stone, but at the tip there was a concealed transmitter. Jason slotted it into the crack. It fitted perfectly. At the very back of the keyhole, there was a signal receiver, which would react when receiving the right transmission at the right distance.
There was a small beep. The door didn’t move, but the wall did, sliding upwards. Jason checked his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t being watched, slid the “key” out the crack, and went in. The wall slid back down.
Inside, Jason walked into a room no bigger than a telephone booth, but with metal walls. It was just like a telephone booth, save for the metal walls, but there was one significant difference. Telephone booths don’t have security systems as sophisticated as those in the Pentagon in America, or the Millennium Dome in England. He knew at that precise moment, the partition, or wall, in front of him would be scanning the blood pattern in his eyes. It knew where to scan, for the wall behind him had already measured his weight, height, arm length, hand span and head width in the space of 5 milliseconds. Another partition was examining his fingers. The result would show that Jason had no fingerprints. He had had them surgically removed.
If any of the results had come out wrong in any way, the metal floor Jason was standing on would have initiated a 100,000 volt electric shock through the surface. He would be incinerated instantly.
After the results came out clear, the entire booth spun slowly. It rotated 180 degrees until Jason was facing backwards. The walls in front of him slid apart. He stepped through, and entered the YF Headquarters.
The Youth Fraternity
The building shook slightly as the paint bucket fell and smashed through the fragile wood structure of the scaffolding and hit the pavement at the bottom. Three floors up, a builder swore loudly. His companion shook his head with contempt. After all, he was only a trainee, on his first building assignment. But he didn’t know that he would mess up so soon.
Brad apologized to his partner. “Sorry mate, I didn’t know it was there … and I just sort of … tripped.”
Pete glared at him. “Well I would’ve reported that to the office … But since it’s your first assignment I’ll let you off. Just this time.”
Brad sounded relieved. “Thanks buddy, I owe you one.”
“That’s alright. I need to fix one of the doors on the fifth floor, so you take care of yourself.”
“Yeah, good luck.” After making sure Pete had gone out of sight, Brad walked cautiously towards the edge of the scaffolding platform they were currently on, as if he was afraid of knocking over anything else. Three floors below, he could see a giant splat of red paint all over the pavement. At least nobody’s around, he thought. But he was wrong. Suddenly Brad heard a single footstep against the rough stone below, echoing all around the street. He jumped. He spun around and walked over to the opposite side of the platform. And he noticed someone. A boy. Dressed almost entirely in black, he looked about thirteen years old. Brad shrugged. Just another teenager roaming about, he thought. But then he noticed something else. The boy’s eyes. Two black whirlpools that seemed to hold his gaze forever. Brad was taken aback. There was something in those eyes which wasn’t entirely normal, as if they showed things that no ordinary boy should show. Briefly, Brad was reminded of two days ago.
He was crossing Galthon Square, getting ready to receive his first building assignment from the office. But nearby, he had noticed several teenagers lurking silently around. They weren’t talking. They didn’t even seem to be moving. But one of them had watched him as he walked. He remembered how he had felt unsettled and uneasy. These kids aren’t what they seem, he had thought.
And they certainly weren’t.
Brad, who had been slightly hesitant at first, but afterwards with self-reassuring, had crossed over to those teens, and had asked what they were doing.
“What are you doing here? What is your business?”
Silence.
“Why are you not talking? Answer me, boy, what are you doing here?”
Even more silence.
Brad remembered how he had ground his teeth in frustration, and had turned away, not willing to show his anger. But when he had turned back round, he had been shocked. The boys had disappeared. There was no sign of them at all. Brad did a 360, spinning around, trying to catch sight of them, but they weren’t to be seen.
This boy that stood below him, he noticed, was also of that same kind. Withdrawn and silent, but showing an air of danger about him. This boy was the same. He was one of them.
But once again Brad, in his ignorance, thought him strange, but of no harm. He’s just lonely, he thought, trying to ignore the strings of unease settling in his stomach.
He called out, “What do you want, boy?” No answer. “I asked you a question young man, and you will give me an answer!” The boy stood still, silent like the stars in a black night.
But then the boy started walking, as if to continue on his way. Oh, Brad thought. Nothing so eccentric about him after all. But there was something wrong. If the boy had continued under the scaffolding, then he should see him going out the other side. But there was no sign of him. The only possibility was, he had stopped underneath. Brad felt suddenly aware of the silence all around him. It engulfed him, overwhelming him. He was suddenly afraid. There was something very sinister about to happen, he thought in panic. He felt his face burn with fear and felt his heart thump louder than ever against his sweaty chest.
Silence took hold of the next several seconds.
He heard it before he felt it. A whoosh of air – almost inaudible. Suddenly there was a searing pain through his chest. Brad screamed. It was like being burnt with a hot iron poker. The pain scorched through him. His nervous system felt as if it was on fire. He managed to look down, and the sight he saw stunned him. Half a knife blade was sticking out of his chest, exactly where his heart was located. Blood was pouring out, coating the 6 centimetre long blade of steel. Brad gasped. He couldn’t breathe. But what he had also seen was astounding. Turning around, he saw the boy. The same boy which had stared up at him, the same boy who didn’t speak. Thoughts fleeted through his head like butterflies. How could this be possible? How could the boy have been able to get up to the third floor of a building’s scaffolding structure in less than ten seconds? Who is this? What is this?
He looked up once more into the swirling black whirlpools. They were the last things he ever saw.
The ambulance arrived an hour later, just after Pete, having heard Brad’s screams, had rushed down to investigate, only to find his partner with a knife sticking out of him. Hurriedly he had dialed 999 and had just given them the location of his whereabouts, when he had been suddenly flung backwards. The ambulance crew found him with a gaping round bullet hole in his forehead. His phone was still in his hand.
There was no trace of the teenager. The forensic team, who had arrived moments after the police, had not been able to find any fingerprints of any sort on the knife, or anywhere on the dead corpses.
Headquarters
A figure in dark garments headed off into a remote alleyway off the south corner of Trathenon Road. He stealthily made his way towards an unused, ancient church which was in serious need of repair. His name was Jason Gray. As he walked, his footsteps made no sound. His whole stance was agile, as if ready to spring at any moment. He was cautious. He was searching for any sign of pursuit. After all, there could have been anonymous pedestrians that could have followed him after his brief hit. Quickly, Jason checked his mobile phone. A box popped up on the screen. New Message. Read? The text was short. Target Terminated? His reply was even shorter. Yes. After waiting the brief moment for the sending to finish, Jason shut his phone and slipped it in his pocket.
The church had once belonged to a famous catholic priest, who had but recently died of a heart failure. Afterwards, it had fallen into disrepair. But for Jason and his team, the location was perfect. Jason was a newly recruited member of the YF, the Youth Fraternity. His recent mission had been his first, a test as a new recruit. The YF was a team solely consisting of teenagers. Their sole purpose was money. They would receive a contract, and would perform the elimination. Their recruits were only those who made no mistakes. Those who had no conscience. Those who were ready, and willing to kill people they didn’t even know about, people that could have been innocent. It had been founded by a sixteen-year old who was probably the most dangerous teenager to have existed.
David Jones had never known his mother. His dad had given him a hard time for as long he could remember, but that wasn’t for long as he had shot and murdered him with a Walther-PPK pistol at the age of 11. The pistol he had pick-pocketed off a policeman trying to investigate a recent bombing in a school playground. Nobody knew that it was David who had planted the explosives. They couldn’t link his dad’s death with him either – he had already disappeared.
Jason arrived at the church door. He saw the withered surface, the gnarled wooden doorknob, and the rotten strands of ivy hanging overhead. But that wasn’t what he was looking for. There was a crack in the wall next to the door. Any passerby wouldn’t have given it a second glance, but of course Jason knew its real purpose. A keyhole. From a piece of string around his neck, he retrieved a long but thin, pointed stone. Well, it looked like a stone, but at the tip there was a concealed transmitter. Jason slotted it into the crack. It fitted perfectly. At the very back of the keyhole, there was a signal receiver, which would react when receiving the right transmission at the right distance.
There was a small beep. The door didn’t move, but the wall did, sliding upwards. Jason checked his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t being watched, slid the “key” out the crack, and went in. The wall slid back down.
Inside, Jason walked into a room no bigger than a telephone booth, but with metal walls. It was just like a telephone booth, save for the metal walls, but there was one significant difference. Telephone booths don’t have security systems as sophisticated as those in the Pentagon in America, or the Millennium Dome in England. He knew at that precise moment, the partition, or wall, in front of him would be scanning the blood pattern in his eyes. It knew where to scan, for the wall behind him had already measured his weight, height, arm length, hand span and head width in the space of 5 milliseconds. Another partition was examining his fingers. The result would show that Jason had no fingerprints. He had had them surgically removed.
If any of the results had come out wrong in any way, the metal floor Jason was standing on would have initiated a 100,000 volt electric shock through the surface. He would be incinerated instantly.
After the results came out clear, the entire booth spun slowly. It rotated 180 degrees until Jason was facing backwards. The walls in front of him slid apart. He stepped through, and entered the YF Headquarters.
