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Atmosphere Awards!

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Coat.
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#31

Posted 03 March 2013 - 07:11 AM

I vote orbitalraindrops. I was about to enter the competition as well but realized the votes are now coming in.

AceRay
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#32

Posted 03 March 2013 - 07:24 AM Edited by AceRay, 03 March 2013 - 07:42 AM.

QUOTE (Coat. @ Sunday, Mar 3 2013, 20:11)
I vote orbitalraindrops. I was about to enter the competition as well but realized the votes are now coming in.

You still have until tomorrow you know, you could pump something out of that old noggin in that time. Just listen to the music then pump something out. I always think about bees or wasps cause of that humming that plays. Like a giant swarm of them and they're humming at once, that was what my old story was about. The other thing is helicopters or something.

While we're waiting, what music is everyone looking forward to posting if they win? I'm hoping to post a song from The Terminator Sega CD soundtrack because they're just so f*cking kickass. Everytime I hear "Taking to the Air" or "Future Shock," I just start f*cking banging my head, probably some of the best game soundtracks of all time. The other one from me would be from some Silent Hill game, as they're always atmospheric and Akira Yamaoka is a genius, maybe a Final Fantasy song to chill everyone out, or a battle song as they can be cool. I'm really excited for this as you can see, although I can see someone berating me for choosing game soundtracks, in which case screw you in advance haters.

Ziggy455
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#33

Posted 04 March 2013 - 04:31 AM

I vote brownbear.

Eminence
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#34

Posted 04 March 2013 - 04:57 AM

My vote goes to orbitalraindrops.

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#35

Posted 04 March 2013 - 05:17 AM

I'm going to dive head first into this orbitalraindrops orgy. The story just had the most vibrant language in it.

I would vote brownbear but it was too much of a lump of text through most of it and was hard to read.

Coat.
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#36

Posted 04 March 2013 - 06:22 AM

When does the voting end. I want to get straight into the next one!

Mokrie Dela
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#37

Posted 04 March 2013 - 10:31 AM

NO VOTES!?! I DEMAND A RECOUNT!!!!!
ITS FIXED!!!!




Seriously, mine goes to orbital - his entertained me the most.

Lochie
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#38

Posted 04 March 2013 - 11:46 AM

Yep orbital gets my vote, very nice and descriptive. I really enjoyed the whole shamanistic/tribal vibe I picked up from it.

BrownBear
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#39

Posted 04 March 2013 - 12:47 PM

QUOTE (AceRay @ Monday, Mar 4 2013, 05:17)

I would vote brownbear but it was too much of a lump of text through most of it and was hard to read.

Sorry about that, I wrote it on Word and it doesn't seem to have moved very well.
I'll have to vote for orbitalraindrops, as much as I loved Typhus' story, I love historical settings and it really does seem to fit the music.

Ziggy455
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#40

Posted 04 March 2013 - 05:55 PM

user posted image
Winner: orbitalraindrops


Congratulations on winning Atmosphere's first award, orbitalraindrops! As the winner your name will be placed in the up-and-coming Championship Ranks [Under construction], also your name will be featured on the Main Post as the winner, and you are the next decider of what song is to be chosen. Upload it in your next post with your story and it will replace the video that is there now.

Ziggy455.

orbitalraindrops
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#41

Posted 04 March 2013 - 05:59 PM

Thanks for all the votes guys, means a lot smile.gif . I would have voted for Mokrie not that it entirely matters now anyway but just thought I'd let you know Mok smile.gif .

Iv'e got a song, but not a story yet. Can I post the song then other people can start writing whilst I come up with something as well?.

Ziggy455
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#42

Posted 04 March 2013 - 06:05 PM

QUOTE (orbitalraindrops @ Monday, Mar 4 2013, 17:59)
Thanks for all the votes guys, means a lot smile.gif . I would have voted for Mokrie not that it entirely matters now anyway but just thought I'd let you know Mok smile.gif .

Iv'e got a song, but not a story yet. Can I post the song then other people can start writing whilst I come up with something as well?.

Of course. Upload it and I'll put it on the main post. You are now officially 1st place in the Championship Ranks as I have also just put the table in. cool.gif Well done.

orbitalraindrops
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#43

Posted 04 March 2013 - 06:16 PM

Lycia - Bare
Here you go Zig smile.gif . I don't know how to embed so here's the hyper link.
I chose this because it's a very atmospheric song. Sends chills down my spine. I used to put this on when I'd play Age Of Empires - The Conquerors. Made me think of medieval armies marching off to do battle. Good luck with your stories. I look forward to seeing what you guys produce and coming up with something myself smile.gif .

Ziggy455
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#44

Posted 04 March 2013 - 06:20 PM


AceRay
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#45

Posted 04 March 2013 - 06:58 PM

Just FYI for those who don't know how to embed Youtube videos:

1. You see the youtube URL on top?
CODE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLI4EuDckgM


Well just copy everything after the equal to sign and put it in between this.

CODE
[youtube][/youtube]

2.Once you've done that it will give you this.

CODE
[youtube]HLI4EuDckgM[/youtube]



Hopefully that should help. I'll get round to posting my story latter, nice song though Orb its really atmospheric, it almost feels like I'm booting up a TurboGraphix16 or something.

Ziggy455
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#46

Posted 04 March 2013 - 07:04 PM


QUOTE



I vote AceRay.

orbitalraindrops
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#47

Posted 04 March 2013 - 08:59 PM

Thanks for the help Ace Ray ><.

Typhus
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#48

Posted 05 March 2013 - 12:11 AM Edited by Typhus, 09 March 2013 - 07:17 PM.

Gone.

Tyler
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#49

Posted 05 March 2013 - 01:42 AM

Cot damn, Typhus. Cot damn.

Ziggy455
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#50

Posted 05 March 2013 - 04:01 AM

After sitting down and reading your story, Typhus. Words cannot express the gratitude and syntax of how I wish to tell you how talented you are, and how your story was one of the best short stories I have come across in a long time. All I can leave you with is this as I am dumbfounded for words.



Speechless. f*cking speechless.

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#51

Posted 05 March 2013 - 04:47 AM Edited by Master of San Andreas, 06 March 2013 - 02:05 AM.

nvm this,gonna rewrite.

Good Job by Typhus btw. smile.gif

AceRay
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#52

Posted 05 March 2013 - 06:10 AM

user posted image

orbitalraindrops
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#53

Posted 05 March 2013 - 07:36 AM

Yeah fairplay Typhus that was pretty amazing. Really felt like I was there. Fitted the music perfectly and a had a good historical back ground to it. I don't think we'll be able to top that.

Coat.
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#54

Posted 05 March 2013 - 10:20 AM

Rust in Orbit


In space, it was dark. Come to think of it, it was rather shadowy. Not much light - you'd expect more or less. My fingertips where slightly wet and shriveled and they were stone cold. There was no need for oxygen to fill my lungs, and gravity wasn't needed either. My eardrums slowly thumped to the pulsating of my head. Brain matter danced around my body slowly, with ease. It's as all my actions were just signs of normal body functions. I wondered for some time what exactly went wrong. Before all this, this all went terribly went wrong. I looked towards my left, to only notice what I was visualizing was my imagination. The only thing I knew was real was an object I was holding in my hand. I grasped it, as it was the only speck of reality I had left.

"It wasn't the first time it happened," a profound voice spoke.

My feet slowly stepped, one by one along the pavement. Beside me was a transparent figure, probably my imagination. It spoke of it's experiences and times it had on Earth before descending to the grave of the underworld. It walked to a large maple tree that was planted beside the old town road and felt it's bark. He grinned, "We don't have these in the underworld," he pulled a piece of the tree off and felt it with his fingers - emotion melted from his face and he continued down the path. His voice seemed slightly high pitched, and distorted. We both walked a good mile down the street before meeting a dead end, at the end of a orange, clay-like road.

It pointed, "That's my house," it said, moving slowly towards it. I had a gut feeling that this being hadn't been home in a long time. The house wasn't normal. It was made of refurbished wood, and sat in a field slightly slopped. I took a few steps onto the property before looking down at the mail box. It looked lonesome. No mail. Not even a coat of paint. The being flew about the outside of his house before moving towards me in confusion.

"I can't get inside!" it yelled in panic.

I lead the underworld figure through the long, grassy field and up onto the veranda of the barn-like house. A door was there, and it really stood out. It was painted a bright purple for some reason. I pointed it in the direction of the door but it blankly looked at me before shrugging and saying, "What are you pointing at?" before turning away. "It's a door," I replied. It turned back, "What's that?" it asked in curiosity. "It's how you enter a building," I said back. There was a sudden rush of bliss throughout my body and the being slowly became more and more transparent.

"I can finally go home," it said in a dying sigh of relief.

It glowed slowly before it vanished, "And before you leave," it said, "You better tie up your shoe lase; it's undone," the profound voice said as it's last words before blackness soon followed. There was a slowly swelling feeling of despair, followed by a physical feeling of a spiral. I glided up and up and up. There was no sky, only a ceiling which I pushed myself through. As I flew deeper and deeper into the abnormal atmosphere, it became very sandy - hitting me in the eyes and mouth. I coughed but accelerated in terminal velocity into this one direction - up. As I accelerated further and further up, doubt began to wash over me. Was I going up, or was I actually falling down.

"Don't fear," a loud voice spoke, "For you are safe in these clouds," it continued. The blizzard had gone away, but the voice was still talking loudly. "Who are you?" I spoke, pointing my finger into blackness. "Colonel William Rankin," it replied. There was a silence for a second before I appeared on a long, tarmac runway. William Rankin stood in front of me, his head in a plane engine - fiddling with it a little. His palms where greasy and he whipped his hands on his already dirty jeans. "We all do bad things in life kid," he said kindly, his face still focused on the plane's engine. He wore a white pilots helmet with a buckled shirt and jeans. "I haven't done anything wrong in my life," I replied, walking towards him; although not getting any closer.

"Can you hold this racket for me, son?" William asked.

I held a racket in my hand, shocked to see blood covered over it. William went very silent before turning into a black cat. He moved towards me hissing. It was going to pounce any second and I knew it. Khssssss, it hissed again. "Stay back, shoo!" I waved the racket at the cat. It pounced at me, and in mid air I smacked it with all my mite. Once it fell to the ground before sliding a meter or so, I began thrashing the racket at it's head.

"Come on, Wiley.. stop!" it said in a plea to stop.

It wasn't what, nothing would stop. Visuals bluing, hands on fire and shifts of gears. Changing in history, cramming in a small jar. With what is what, nothing would stop. Visuals blued more and more. Tom cat, knocked on the door. Fists of ice, cold in price. Order of law and wave or sorrow. Wiley's thoughts ran wild before it came to a stop.

"Dude, what the f*ck?" his friend cried. He appeared in one of his friends bedroom, they all laid on the floor. One of his friend looked at Wiley as he just belted in his friends head in with his father's racket. Wiley looked at his room mates head in complete shock, "He was a cat!" Wiley yelled. All other friends ran in fear from the dorm and into the halls, calling for help. Wiley looked over at the packet on the floor. A smiley face showed on it... acid - a bad trip... that ended bad. He cried for some time before smashing open the rifle that hung in a glass cabinet. The past days had been hell, but the rest of eternity were going to be just as bad. He loaded the rifle before glocking it shoving it into his mouth. The barrel touched the roof of his mouth. He held the racket in the other hand tightly.





BAM.







In space, it was dark. Come to think of it, it was rather shadowy. Not much light - you'd expect more or less. My fingertips where slightly wet and shriveled and they were stone cold. There was no need for oxygen to fill my lungs, and gravity wasn't needed either. My eardrums slowly thumped to the pulsating of my head. Brain matter danced around my body slowly, with ease. It's as all my actions were just signs of normal body functions. I wondered for some time what exactly went wrong. Before all this, this all went terribly went wrong. I looked towards my left, to only notice what I was visualizing was my imagination. The only thing I knew was real was an object I was holding in my hand. I grasped it, as it was the only speck of reality I had left... the racket.

orbitalraindrops
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#55

Posted 05 March 2013 - 01:03 PM Edited by orbitalraindrops, 05 March 2013 - 01:13 PM.

A Childs play thing

It took three weeks for him to make this journey but now it is coming to a close. Ser Astor; Veteran of Acre, Leader of the Christian counter attack at Hattin and Knight Hospitaller stands naked and unarmed. His body is a leathered slab of scar tissue and taut red skin. A side effect of fighting Seljuks under the Jerusalem sun.

The cavern is a large spherical structure. Smooth sandstone walls on either side. No way to climb across. Opposite him it sits. A small beautifully delicate creature on an unimposing granite altar.

“The grail…” he mutters nervously and cautiously fingers the silver crucifix around his neck. He looks down at the abyss in front of him and hot stagnant air rushes up to meet him. The Leap of Faith. The third and final trial. The Grail is on the other side of the crevasse. A hundred or so yards away.
“God will guide me through this” Whispers Astor but doubts cloud his mind.

For God did not guide Ser Deryn and Ser Oscar when they were felled by Seljuk arrows. Neither did God guide Ser Robert as he collapsed from diarrhoea and heat exhaustion in the desert. Nor was an appearance made when they came to the first trial – the snake pit and Ser Ilyn fell to the thousands of venomous cobras summoned from the sand. Even Ser Jacques, the most devout of them all fell to the Walk of Fire. No they had all died and God had not made an appearance. A life of servitude, celibacy and fasting and they still ended up bleeding out in the sand like a common swell sword.

Astor crosses himself and mouths a silent prayer. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to make the jump. That said, the Arc Angel Michael had been clear in his message. Follow Gods commands and his love will save you. Perhaps that was where Ser Jacques failed. Too scared to take off his armour to walk through the fire he disintegrated to ash whilst Astor walked through naked, unscathed.

If I believe in God he’ll believe in me. Astor repeats this over and over, eyeing up the jump ahead. He takes a long deep breath, poises himself on the balls of his feet and sprints forward.
He lets out a roar
“Christ, guide me!” and he flings his frame forward into the air.
Christ did not guide him. He didn’t even make a quarter of the jump before he started to fall down into the blackness.


“GOD DAMN IT!” Shouts Michael. Gabriel simply laughs in retort.
“Now, now Michael. I don’t think our father would be too happy with you cursing him like that now would he?” The Angel Michael shoots Gabriel a smouldering look
“What was it that you now owe me my dear?. Ten thousand souls was it?. Oh yes. You did raise the stakes once he made it through the Walk of Fire didn’t you. You seemed so full of yourself but let me tell you this Michael, Pride is a sin and...”
“Shut the f*ck up Gabriel!”
Gabriel merely laughs again.
“Here’s a lesson for you my dear Michael. Nobody is ever going to make it through. They might come close like our brave Ser Astor did but they will never succeed. Do you know why Michael?. Because God doesn’t want them too. Do you think our Divine Father really cares about his followers getting a piece of junk that Christ drunk himself half to death with?. No. Our most Holy Lord is only doing this because he likes seeing the lengths to which his followers will go for him. Call it an ego boost, call it a sadistic little thrill, whatever. Fact of the matter is, this sh*t gets God off, not to mention it’s funny as f*ck seeing silly little mortals mutilate and maim themselves. All of this” Gabriel makes circular motions with his hand
“Is why you don’t get to go out and join us when we f*ck Succubi or taunt the poor sods in Purgatory. You can’t chill with our Holy Father if you don’t understand him.”

Michael looks downwards moodily.
“Fine. But I’m bored of this now. I want to do something else”
Gabriel grins.
“I’m way ahead of you Michael”. Gabriel waves his hand and in an instant he has become a bronze skinned man complete with a turban and a beard.
“Come my dear. Lets go pay our dear Saladin a visit"

orbitalraindrops
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#56

Posted 05 March 2013 - 01:16 PM

Is that based on a personal experience Coat? wink.gif .

Coat.
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#57

Posted 05 March 2013 - 09:06 PM

QUOTE (orbitalraindrops @ Tuesday, Mar 5 2013, 13:16)
Is that based on a personal experience Coat?.

Yes, I clobbed my dear friend to death with a racket. ph34r.gif

orbitalraindrops
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#58

Posted 05 March 2013 - 09:34 PM

QUOTE (Coat. @ Tuesday, Mar 5 2013, 21:06)
QUOTE (orbitalraindrops @ Tuesday, Mar 5 2013, 13:16)
Is that based on a personal experience Coat?.

Yes, I clobbed my dear friend to death with a racket. ph34r.gif

I was assuming you exaggerated it quite a bit.

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#59

Posted 05 March 2013 - 10:30 PM

This story is a tribute to my great great grandfather, Hassan, who died at the battle of Gallipoli in WW1.

Thirst

The thirst consumes everything. First your body, then your mind, it then eats out your soul as your life dries out under the baking Anatolian sun. A shuffling mass of worn khaki, hairy leathered faces cooking in the glaring sun; emaciated boys with their dad’s old hunting rifles slung across their arched backs. Heads filled with blind nationalism and dusty religious dogma; these are the pride of the once great Ottoman Empire, trapped in a rocky valley on some remote strip of coastline, surrounded by an army from half the world away.

These men are not the courageous Janissaries of old, they are scared farm boys tired and baked in the sun, they attempt to make small talk with other worn souls and write letters to distant families. The older men are of a different breed, moustached and tattooed; they smoke hashish from the local villages and play long games of chess, hardened, angry remnants of the brutal wars in the Balkans. The men were pushed back from their hillside defences by the foreign enemy, they have heard of the brutality of these so called “ANZACS”, rumours of pale skinned invaders who wiped the natives from a land of giant lizards abounded around their communities before they left for war. They found themselves trapped in a dusty, narrow canyon, with a pathetic stream straddling over the sun bleached rocks.

A young man is picked to collect water from the shallow stream; he knows this is a death sentence, an enemy sniper camped on the cliff side, picking off the men as they collected water from the stream, the men have took to calling him “The Serpent”. He stumbles over the white rocks towards the stream, an old battered rifle in one hand, the harness of the scabby pack donkey in the other. He gets to the bubbling stream and scans the cliff side, he sees no movement an... A bullet tears through his throat with ease, a shower of dark red blood sprays the rocks; he squirms on the floor, clasping his gushing wound and muttering some ancient prayer; his life ebbs away within minutes. The donkey runs back to the men, they watch helplessly as their young friend dies.

Hours pass and tensions fray, it becomes too much, someone must collect water or they will not last. Another young man is picked, Hassan, he carries the name of his forefathers. He thinks of home, of his young wife and newborn son, he knows his son will grow to be a strong man, living in a free country with no threat of attack from foreign invaders. He grabs his dad’s old rifle, worn and ancient, having killed young other men in that disastrous war against Russia. His friends cheer him on as he grabs the donkey and heads towards that dreaded stream. He struggles to gain footing over the loose rocks, his wiry frame racked by thirst and hunger, pain in every movement he makes. Finally he makes it to the stream, he looks to the cliffs but sees nothing, taking an old wooden bucket from the donkeys back he bends to fill it with the warm murky water. He brings it to his lips and lets the water cascade down his throat, the relief is beautiful. He quickly fills the other buckets and turns to his friends, his heart racing with happiness at having made it. As he stumbles over the rocks a sharp pain racks through his leg, he crashes to the floor in pain. He tries to drag himself over the rocks, his leg oozing blood, he sees his friends running towards him but a sharp crack from the cliffs sends them scarpering back. Another loud crack and his back flairs with unimaginable pain, thick, dark liquid pours from his mouth as he calls for his baby boy, his sight begins to fade but he continues to scramble towards his friends, he hears another loud crack and feels a wave of serenity wash over his aching body, everything turns black as his friends scream and fire hopelessly at the cliffs above him. They slump down as they realise he has died out there under the open sun, they know they will not survive, prayers are said as another young man is picked to collect water.

Master of San Andreas
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#60

Posted 06 March 2013 - 02:48 AM Edited by Master of San Andreas, 06 March 2013 - 03:39 AM.

Rewrite.
Murder

The man walked on through the dark and winding path.It was raining hard but he ignored the cold drops that fell on his face with every step he took.He wore a gray shirt,shabby black pant and a pair of old black boots.He had brown hair and a very stern face with a short,sharp nose.

The man seemed to have finally reached his destination for he had stopped short in front of a lonely wooden house,he knocked twice and the door flew open at once.

In the doorway stood a short,fat,bald man with an enormous belly.His face was round and apprehensive.

"Hello Rick" said the visitor.

The bald man continued to stare at the visitor with his eyes out of focus,he looked slightly drunk.

"Oh...Yeah Hello Drake been wondering when you'd show up,come in"
Drake followed Rick into the hall and looked around.It was a total mess,chips,packets,toffee wrappers,pieces of glass were all strewn across
the floor.The TV was siting upside down on it's stand,chairs were on the floor with large chunks of wood missing,the sofa was torn badly and a broken clock was hanging off the wall.

"Oh,yeah it's a bit of a mess" said Rick noticing where Drake was looking "Been drinking alot,You want one?" he added pointing at a large
pile of wine bottles.
"Yes,please" replied Drake.

Rick strode over to the pile of wine bottles,picked one out and poured them both red wine in 2 dusty old glasses.Together,they found a clear to space to sit on the floor.

"So,Drake what do I owe you pleasure?" asked Rick sipping his wine.
"Oh just wanted to drop by and see how things are going on,you know" replied Drake also sipping his wine.

Rick continued to sip his wine "But you must have had some reason..."
He stopped talking awkwardly in mid-sentence.He gulped down the rest of his wine.

"Yes,I have one" said Drake after the awkward pause.
Rick who had been pouring wine dropped both wine bottle and the glass and looked up at Drake who was watching him intently.

"You know Doctor Roberts?" asked Drake quietly
"Oh yeah,good old chap,mended-"
"Well" interrupted Drake."He and I need a very important Code which you happen to have right now in your shirt pocket"

Rick froze,he got to his feet unsteadily and was pointing a fat finger at Drake.
"No,never you...you-"
"Come on Rick" said Drake quietly,getting to his feet and taking out a Desert Eagle from his pocket "Give me the Code and I spare your life,come on-"
"NO!" yelled Rick,his eyes were popping and he looked slightly mad."You'll never get it!"

"But you work for the organisation,Don't you Rick,The organisation which plans to nuke the world which is led by Marius Fischer?.Come on Rick don't be a fool,give that Code to me"
"NO!"
"Well,we'll see then....Goodbye Rick"

BANG,BANG,BANG three bullets flew from the tip of the gun and hit Rick on the chest.He fell where he stood,his face still bore that mad look.

Drake strode over to him,put a hand in his shirt pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper,he smoothed it out and read it:
52317689117

Drake got to his feet,pocketed the paper and looked down at the dead man."This is only the beginning Rick" he said quietly.

He put the pistol back in his pocket and left the house.




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