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Our Resistance
Where Nightmares Become Dreams
Number Four- Part A 
27th-Jul-2005 09:40 pm
Laura- Red dress
Here it finally is. I'm sorry that it's so late, but it tried my best. I know that it's definitely not perfect, but I wanted it to be the best that it can be for right now.

This is the first part of it, which I chose to go ahead and post because you've been so patient. The second part will be posted as soon as I finish picking it over and cleaning it up.

Thank you, and please enjoy.





Karl had spent three hours, twenty-four minutes, and thirteen seconds of his life lying in a ditch today. So far, that is. The sun had been beating down on him for about two of those hours, and he could feel the slow, hot slide of sweat down his face. It felt like he was slowly melting, which was probably at least half true. The green paint that camouflaged his skin was running down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. A little GI Joe figurine, melting away under a sadistic God’s magnifying glass. He had no idea how much longer he was going to lay there, but Karl did know one thing for sure. He wasn’t going to so much as twitch until Richard gave him the signal.

Normally, it would be Karl (as the older and more experienced soldier) who would be calling the shots and moving in for the kill here. But for this Mission, there were…special circumstances. This was an assassination, but for Richard, it was personal. As his best friend, Karl would step back and allow him this chance for revenge.

Across the airfield and inside the main airport complex, Richard was just about to enter the security checkpoint. And he was making the guards that were on-duty very nervous. But these men were also very lucky for one reason: they were not Richard’s primary target. As long as they weren’t in the way, they would probably walk away from this.

The line of travelers slowly worked its way through the metal detectors, only being held up when an overweight woman in a hideous fuchsia dress had to pass through the gate a second time (this time without the secret gin canteen that had been hidden within her ample bosom). All embarrassment and obvious amusement aside, it was at about this time that the Guards began to cast anxious looks towards the quiet young man near the end of the queue.

He didn’t seem overtly threatening, but there was just something about him that quickly put them on edge. There was a complete stillness about him, as if even the air around him was…empty. He wasn’t like the other travelers; he wasn’t shifting his weight, or checking the time, or rooting around in his bag for something. He merely stood there, with his head forward and his eyes slightly unfocused, taking step after slow step towards the security gate. He had that scruffy and slightly slouching look that always drives the mother of a teenage boy crazy, and his dark brown hair fell all the way to his shoulders. And clipped to his coat was a large blue button. A large blue happy face button.

All in all, it made him seem kind of creepy. Like something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t quite tell what.

The Guards shot each other looks, loosening the guns in their holsters, and before long he was at the front of the line. The head Guard stepped forward and held out a basket, his other hand on his hip, ready to draw his weapon. The quiet young man reached into an inside pocket of his trench coat, and withdrew a ring of keys. As the kid outstretched his hand to drop them in the basket, their eyes met.

The Guard felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Having this kid focus on you was like being struck by lightning. His hazel eyes seemed to pierce right through you, then push you out of his way. There was such a sharp intensity in his eyes now, that made it seem like his first impressions of the kid were all just caused by a trick of the light. Because there was no stillness here; only cold force, radiating from him almost visibly. He had seen that look only once or twice before, and it had been on the faces of men in battle; men that had nothing to lose but lives that had already been lost, and nothing to gain but vengeance. This kid’s message was crystal clear.

Don’t fuck with me.

Their eyes were still locked as the keys dropped with a slight jingle into the basket, and the young man’s lip twitched upwards into the ghost of a smile. The boy stepped around him and moved through the gate. The metal detector stayed silent; the duffle bag that moved through the x-ray machine contained only clothes and other traveling necessities. As the kid reached back into the basket to retrieve his keys, he gave that strange tight almost-smile again. The Guard almost started at the sound of his voice, shockingly soft and polite.

“Have a nice day.”

All of the Guards found themselves staring after him as he walked towards the departure gates. He paused for a moment by the large windows, throwing his bag over his shoulder and adjusting the collar of his coat. The happy face button on his lapel flashed brightly in the sunlight as he shifted to make the weight of the bag more comfortable.

Or, at least, that’s what they thought he was doing.

Across the airfield, Karl saw the flashes, and began to crawl forward. There was one thing that was lucky about this particular Mission, as grim as it was. This airport had been one of those that were bombed heavily during the Great War. It had been rebuilt, but the fields of grass between the airstrips were still scarred deeply with craters. Craters like the one he had just been lying in, and the one that he was currently crawling forward towards.

Using the craters like stepping stones in a river, Karl easily crossed the field without being seen. Once he reached the nearest building of the airport complex, he quickly found the rickety, metal utility ladder that had been built into its side. Karl scaled the ladder in half the time a “normal man” could have, despite the fact that he was carrying a cumbersome bag over his back and that the ladder ended at least three feet from the edge of the roof. He heaved himself up and over the edge, then quickly moved to the corner that was closest to the active part of the airport.

Karl unzipped the bag, and started to reassemble the pieces of the sniper rifle.

Once Richard had given the signal, he began his inevitable walk towards the terminal gate. He trusted Karl to have seen it, and to carry out the Mission objective in the event that he himself was killed first. He could already spot the small group of military personnel, all milling around the terminal gate. And in their midst, he saw the Target.

One of the Guards turned as the movement of Richard’s approach caught his eye, an Officer’s braid coiled at the shoulder of his crisp black uniform. Richard felt his stomach clench at the sight of it. Everyone knew what Officers did for “entertainment”. The Officer (who was completely unarmed, the arrogant bastard) spoke a muffled word, and the other two Guards spun to face him as well. The vicious smirks stretching across their faces made his fists tighten in rage, but Richard kept his mind on the objective.

The Target was peering over the shoulder of the Guard on the left. He was an elderly man, his hair almost entirely silver, and frown lines etched deeply into his leathery skin. His name was Thomas Carter, and he was sixty-seven years old. He had once been a legitimate doctor during his youth, before the Great War, but he had been the head of the military’s research scientists for several decades now.

He was the one responsible for all of the pain and horror that had been developed in Lab Five; all of the poison gases and biochemical warfare that Authority’s military employed was his own work. His first work had been the interrogation chemicals that left their victims’ minds permanently warped, quickly followed by a study of torture techniques on the human psyche. He researched and specialized in all the ways to pick apart the mind, break the will, and destroy the body. Authority, out of respect, called him The Doctor. The Resistance called him The Butcher. But now justice had finally caught up with him. As their eyes met, Richard stopped in front of the group, letting the useless duffle bag drop at his side.

Richard’s lips slid into a real smile for the first time in days; the Doctor must have recognized that look, because he began to scream.





If you have any questions/concerns/comments/corrections, please let me know.
Comments 
28th-Jul-2005 02:14 am (UTC)
Very very good. You got my note abut the button in IM. SUSPENSE OMG! -squeal-
28th-Jul-2005 03:02 am (UTC)
Excellent. The description of Richard made me smile, too. I love the way you pace this.

And damn you, between this, Bourne Identity, apocalyptic movies and the trailer for V for Vendetta, I'm pondering my own action story. Damn you and thank you, my muse is peeking its head out again.
28th-Jul-2005 03:56 am (UTC) - GIGGIDY!
I've waited sooooo long for this! Lemme just say, it was worth the wait.
29th-Jul-2005 09:24 am (UTC)
Anonymous
Karl here
I'm in awe of you Cassie. I thought you opened this one very well, it set the whole mood right at the beginning. I could almost feel my sweaty, dirty cloths there. I think you should describe Richard more when you first mention the guards noticing him. When you mentioned the pin I could see him wearing the white duster but before that I wasn't really sure. You did a very good job on the guard meeting Richard's eyes as the keys fell. It felt like everything slowed down as the guard's world got turned upside down, and then sped up again back to reality. One little thing, I kinda wanna know how tall the airport building I'm on top of is.

This is defiantly an incredible story to read and I'll be waiting for part two with wide eyes and a bit of drool.
28th-Sep-2005 06:37 pm (UTC)
... *stunned silence* Whoa... Cass, that... and with the... and the hi... *deep breath* Wow. Just wow. I'm sorry I didn't join our_resistance earlier.
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