cyzici
Junior Member
Posts: 64
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Post by cyzici on Jan 24, 2017 20:51:06 GMT
This is a narrative that I don't think I will ever fit into the actual canon plot, but I wanted to write
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cyzici
Junior Member
Posts: 64
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Post by cyzici on Jan 24, 2017 20:52:30 GMT
Raindrops spitting ran down, chilling, running rivlets along the algae-green wood of the pier. Was it a pier? A sea-wall? – on the Thames, no – a breakwater? Maybe. Whatever it was, it was the only shelter on this damn stretch of beach. A three am lull was stretching over Greenwich, and the lights across the water didn’t quite reach the shingle, leaving the person standing on it in shadow. The Thames, whipped into soft peaks and troughs by the rising wind, sat low, calmer than the sea-waves James was used to. He pressed himself back against the wooden structure and huddled into a nook out of the wind. If it weren’t so cold, if it weren’t for the shitty weather, if it weren’t for the fact that there were a hundred goddamn better places to be than this the place might still be busy. London never stops. As it was, only the 1am ghost tour had turned up right on schedule, just like every other sodding day of the week.
Suddenly a voice over the radio:
“Hey, camare, hows things going down there?”
The voice over the radio was so chirpy that it was annoying.
“Its bloody freezing Lucio, as you would bloody well know if you were here, next time you can do the meet-up”
“No can do, passerotto, you made the contact, you gotta meet the guy. Besides, we are your glorious cavalry”
Another voice came across the radio, stifling (barking?) laughter:
“Its so nice and warm in here and these chips are delicious”
James shoved the radio back into his pocket. This was the third day they had been on this beach trying to make contact with this guy and he hadn’t turned up once. Normally small-time crooks coming into money wasn’t Olympus business. Normally small-time crooks don’t use their ill-gotten gains to buy old soviet enhancement drugs. “3-star”, born Bartholomew Randall (no wonder he had a life of crime), Olympus classification CDP-EOXX. Human-caused, drug-enhanced, primarily physically improved – E classification, O operand (stable), no additional notes. James smiled inwardly at his own classification and call sign. Human caused, accidental (unknown), unclear mechanics – I classification, C operand, psychoactive Unknown, Stable. CYZ-ICUS. He was never much good at coming up with names anyway. Maybe this guy just wanted superpowers. Everyone seemed to have them these days. The crunch of feet on shingle made him jump, and he stepped out of the shadow to see a group of young men in hoodies and caps. These were the guys. In the middle was 3-star with his ridiculous chains and the star tattoos on his face. He didn’t have to try to look menacing; in daylight, in an office or a shop, he might look comical, here he looked dangerous. The only exit was directly past them, up the slipway to the road above. James took a deep breath, dropping his voice into the sharp pompey docklands accent he had used at school to get people like this to back off: “you took your time”
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Post by UraharaSteph on Jan 24, 2017 20:59:56 GMT
Ooooooooooh I would love to see where this goes!
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Post by Mittens on Jan 24, 2017 21:36:15 GMT
+1 vote for camare.
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