The breeze of onrushing air whipped past her, tugging on her chestnut-brown hair braid. As it bobbed, up and down, she realized that very soon it would be time to tuck the braid under her collar and don the helm. The air was warm, and humid midsummer nights air, but still it cooled her face and the faces of her fellows seated nearby as it rushed past. Oh, but what a night to savor! All of her hard work was coming to fruition. The high-risk nature of the moment, the speed of the small inflated watercraft along the waters surface, and the elation of starting a glorious new chapter of her life all mingled, and stirred such excitement that she could actually feel goosebumps all over her body.
And thats only happened twice in my life, ever! She thought. I cant wait to get started, such works I will do!
They were really starting to pick up speed now, but that was standard OPro (Operating Procedure) now that they were nearing landfall. She idly fingered the gray and black two-toned arm sleeve she wore, and then pulled it up at the wrist to check the time. Being careful to shield the glowing numbers, lest any light give away their position in the blackness of night, she quickly looked and then re-covered it. For a fourth time this night she checked her equipment:
Weapons, check.
Injectors, full, check. These she primed.
Injector reloads, check.
Tac-armor: vest, check.
Emergency ID cards and currency, check.
She drew in a deep breath, but when she blew it out slowly, instead it came out as a long exhale with dozens of tiny tremor-breaths. There was no doubt about it: the electricity of excited anticipation was palpable. She almost leapt straight out of the craft when the bosun (boatswain) sitting beside her, called into her ear: one minute!
Looking ahead at the others in the craft, from her position aft, she could tell some had heard his announcement over the wind and outboard motor noise. She drew in a quick, sharp breath.
One minute! She yelled to the others. She looked at them, from face to face, some now donning their helms. She paused for a moment, and remembered some of the trials she had endured to get to this point. Her selection, Basic Training, graduation, first duty station, and now this, an almost guaranteed career-long stay on the promotional fast-track if all went well: Organized Undercover Detail. The wet-dream of wet-dreams for all specialized personnel, that she was selected for OUD was cause enough for elation. Finding out that she would be working with and directly under the local OUD Commander was nothing short of miraculous.
Undercover. She mused. Makes it sound like what we do is so
dirty. Dirty, it isnt, but if it is, then dirt is needed, because this work is necessary.
She would be part of the vanguard, those leading the way, to make things right. There was so much that was wrong with these people, so much that needed to be done to make things better.
Theyre so fragmented, disjointed, and chaotic. There is so much potential in them, so much good they could do, if only they were able. Thats why Im here. By setting up the initial groundwork, to pave the way for future advances, we can bring them out of the darkness.
Is this what BT, Op-Tran (Operative Training), and OUD were leading her up to? Would this be her crowning achievement, the great thing she did with her life, for her and others to reminisce, or would this be just the beginning? A stone to step for even greater works in the future? She noticed, now, as she looked at the others, that they were also looking at each other. Were they thinking about their lives, their past choices? Were they wondering now, as she did, if the others nearby were also contemplating their past? Almost as if in silent answer, her gaze met the gaze of an ebon-haired, steel-jawed soldier just before he set his helm. She nodded once, ever so slowly, as he did to her, in mute testimony to their shared thoughts.
Twenty seconds! she called out while tucking her chestnut-brown hair-braid beneath her collar, and donned her helm. She checked that everyone else had done so also. Those members with electronic devices installed on their tactical gear left them off, to keep light discipline. Good, our training is showing well so far, she thought. The bosun turned the craft a bit more than 30 degrees, he had apparently just spotted a landmark or two and was now guiding them to debark point. He now cut the motor to one-quarter, the highest no-noise setting the outboard was capable of. Unnecessary, most likely, since the landing point would be prepped and manned by several on-site OUD men, but still standard OPro. This meeting was very crucial, because it would be very difficult to proceed if they were not smuggled to their safehouses, to get brought up to speed on local operations. True, they were in combat loadout and apparel, but even though they were on undercover ops it was still sound OPro. Engagement was not expected and definitely not desired, but still, if worse came to worst, they would be reasonably prepared. The plan was to meet the local OUD commander, and then a hasty trip to unmarked vans, where they would change into civilian attire en route to their safehouses.
The outboard cut out and they drifted into the telephone-pole sized stanchions of the pier. She could make out another pier about 30 yards to the north of them, also leading to the shore. The tide was low, so they used a rope dangling from the corner stanchion to haul themselves up to the pier proper, about 15 feet from the waters surface. The shoreline was still over 50 yards away, but she could just barely make out the sand-water line and the outlines of some beachfront buildings maybe 30 yards from there. Hopefully, just behind those buildings, would be the vans that would take them safely out of here. She stuck her head out over the piers edge to make eye contact with the bosun. He was expecting her, and when she nodded, he flashed a five-fingered open hand to her, then closed it to a fist. He showed five three times quickly to her, then sat down quietly as she showed him a thumbs up. He would wait here for fifteen minutes, before returning to the mini-submersible that would take him back out to his submarine, his regular duty-station. If they had not established contact with the onsites in ten minutes, they were to return here and go back with the bosun for later re-entry. She hoped it wouldnt come to that.
Lets move. She said quietly to the others with her, and led them in a brisk walk toward the shore. She walked ahead of six young men and one other woman, also youthful. When they got to the sand, they saw a tall, broad-shouldered man standing at the corner of one of the beachfront buildings. Dressed in faded jeans, a white T-shirt, and a sky-blue & white two-toned windbreaker, He wore his brown hair in a high & tight flattop that would make any Marine proud. He walked toward them with a purpose, and she could see now that he had a full mustache trimmed just a little past the corners of his lips, and piercing, alert blue eyes.
The mind is willing. He said quietly to her, since she was in the lead.
And the body is strong. She said in reply, the correct answer to the code-phrase he had just selected. It was as if weights lifted from their chests, everyone breathed a sigh in relief. Things were going well.
Operative Dreama, good to meet you. He said, and noted the ever-so-slight flushing of her face as he spoke. Ah, yes, fresh from Op-Tran Academy, he thought. Im probably only the second or third person to address her with her newly-earned title. She must still be flying high on pride, like I was. I am Operative Lexon, his voice resounding in a rich, clear baritone. Call me Luthor.
She raised an eyebrow at his statement. Luthor? she repeated half-quizzically.
I know, it was someones idea of a joke that stuck. Given our situation, not altogether inappropriate, yes?
She smiled for a moment. Then please, call me Jeannie. She said, telling him her own call-sign. Straightening up, she decided to give him a proper report-in: Operative Dreama reporting, Sir. Six Wolves, two Widows, all members of detachment 08-1B present and accounted for.
Very well Operative Dreama. He replied. Jeannie, hmm? Youll have to tell me about that sometime.
No, I wont. She said with a smirk.
He eyed her a moment, and then they both chuckled. Hmmm, eight in this group. A good omen?
I thought that as well, considering our Lord. I think itll be luck for us. She said with a quick nod.
I certainly hope so. With that, he waved over several men and a woman standing near the back corner of the nearby building. They were also dressed in laid-back civilian attire, mostly jeans and T-shirts, though there was one Hawaiian-print shirt among them, maybe a group joker. He addressed them: these are your new charges. Find yours, intro, and were out in five.
They all paired off, and hushed conversations between them ensued, mostly the onsites giving them immediate instructions. Impressive, Jeannie thought. He had each of the new operatives handlers make this meeting. Not a requirement, but unexpectedly pleasant nonetheless. She now noticed that Luthor was armed, concealing a spec-ops tactical auto-gun in a sling rigged to snug the weapon under his right armpit. Resembling a stockless shotgun in appearance, the red LED ammunition indicators were all lit, indicating a full loadout. A quick glance confirmed that the other onsite OUD Operatives were similarly armed.
Youre not
quite what I expected. Jeannie said to Luthor.
Oh? In what way?
Well, given my training and specialty, I just thought that
well, another Night Widow would be my handler.
Ah, but you havent been told everything
yet. He said, with a one-eyed wink. But dont worry, therell be time for all of that later. For now, transportation is in the parking lot just up those stairs. He said, motioning to a set of wooden stairs at the end of the row of buildings, that climbed a rocky, grassy cliff face that went some 50 or so feet up.
Whore they? Jeannie asked, motioning to a man and woman she had noticed just after reporting to Operative Lexon. They were sitting back to back, feet tied and arms bound behind their backs, dressed in sandals, shorts, and T-shirts. Blindfolds and gags completed their attire.
Local lovebirds in the sand when we arrived to prep the site. We waited until we absolutely had to round em up.
Ah, civvies, heh
she chuckled.
I imagine youre gettin a little hungry?
Thats a fact. She said in acknowledgement.
OK, then well hit a spot I know thats great on the way back to the house. Its a little out of the way, but worth it. So, what do you think so far?
Well, its an island, but it isnt
the isles
if you know what I mean
Thats a fact, He said, also expressing his understanding using the oft-used but much beloved cliché adopted by serving soldiers. Thats a fact. Talos is nice, its too nice. Happy little playland it is, although a local gang, and believe it or not, some reports of spirits or ghosts or something are starting to worry the locals.
Youre twisting me. She said, unbelievingly.
Hey, thats a no s$%@#er, as Im standing here.
Wow, unbelievable, I--
NOBODY MOVE!! YOURE SURROUNDED!! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND LAY FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND
NOW!! A booming male voice said, but she knew what it was that had said them even before she had turned her head skyward, along with the others, to see the source. Suspended in midair, a young, clean-cut young man in royal blue and white spandex, blue cape, and metallic boots/gloves pointed downward at them with brightly glowing, white-red hands. DONT MAKE US DO THIS THE HARD WAY!! THIS
IS YOUR FINAL
WARNING!! A %$#%^ing vigilante caped crusader. Other, similarly colorfully-costumed men and women appeared around them on all sides.
Luthor spoke first. Oh, no, no, no, this isnt happening! He leapt over to the two lovers bound in the sand, pulling one of the young mans arms out to where he could see it. He was wearing what appeared to be a medical wrist bracelet, but Luthor quickly flipped it over to reveal a glowing red button that was lit. God$#@*$!! Hes a protected civvie!
Operative Dreama would later remember her only repetitive thought, just moments before the storm: Only been on the ground five minutes, and everythings gone to Hell!
To be continued...?
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whiny woman: "don't you know that hundreds of people are killed by guns every year?!"
"would it make ya feel better, little girl, if they was pushed outta windows?" -- Archie Bunker
Interesting story idea. Too early to judge it much other than to say that it looks original.
As far as managing the story, when folks want to separate story and comments, they generally start two threads with appropriate labeling and a request that commentary go in one and story in the other.
Alternatively, you could post it to the City of Heroes Writer's Guild, where they setup a review forum board for every story.
There is no paragraph formatting available in this forum's software, unfortunately. For fairly obvious reasons, they don't allow HTML, and UBB is extremely limited in its capabilities.
Thanks for the info Riptide, If I do more writing with this I'll definitely look into the writer's guild you suggested, that seems like just the answer.
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whiny woman: "don't you know that hundreds of people are killed by guns every year?!"
"would it make ya feel better, little girl, if they was pushed outta windows?" -- Archie Bunker
Today I decided to write what I would consider an "opening scene" to a buncha stories I've thought about centered around one character. My following post is the result.
I've always wondered about doing some creative writing, but never taken the leap 'till now. My professors in college said I wrote well, but that was purpose-driven stuff.
I guess I would like it to be considered a prelude to the rest of the tale. What I wonder is:
Does reading this make you interested in what happens next?
How do you feel about the delivery of the situation?
If I did continue to write from this setup onward, a concern:
I really don't want my periodic writings to be buried in one thread, amongst others' replies such as critiques & such, because then interested readers have to keep clicking and scrolling, over and over, skim skim skim to find the next part. What would be a good way to have alla "the story" in one place, easily accessible so that this thread can be the "comment repository" only?
Thanks for any insight, pros & cons.
also, is there any way to get beginning of paragraph indentions into forum posts? Now that I've dragged and dropped it in here it looks... bad since it's all flush left justified.
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whiny woman: "don't you know that hundreds of people are killed by guns every year?!"
"would it make ya feel better, little girl, if they was pushed outta windows?" -- Archie Bunker