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Mormons, Mayhem, and JFK
- Thread starter fenzer
- Start date
Hope?
Jarval, thanks for the encouraging words. I can use a little encouragement at the moment. For the first time in days I am typing with my computer, the damn thing has given a good fight but I finally put her in her place. Hopefully I can post here shortly.
Thanks for all the kind words and your patience.
Jarval, thanks for the encouraging words. I can use a little encouragement at the moment. For the first time in days I am typing with my computer, the damn thing has given a good fight but I finally put her in her place. Hopefully I can post here shortly.
Thanks for all the kind words and your patience.
3:43 a.m., August 9th, 2002, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, Earth
“Stand up and turn around.”
Josh throws the hunting rifle to the side and slowly rises turning on his heals. For the first time Josh has a look at one of the men who has been trying to kill him, tall, lean, dark hair cut short and professional, dressed in a suit and tie, holding a small caliber semi-automatic pistol with a silencer.
“He doesn't look so tuff." Josh says to himself. “I can take him.”
Before the gunman can give another command Josh lunges swinging hard for the man’s face. The gunman sees the move the moment Josh strikes and counters with a hard strong impact to Josh’s skull sending him to the ground.
Jen, sitting by the large sliding glass window in James’ apartment, looks over the street below. “What is taking them so long?” Jen says more out of aggravation then anything. “I called ten minutes ago.”
“It’s four o’clock in the morning, Jen. I am sure they will get here as soon as they can.”
“Hey! I think I see one of them. He’s across the street at the house on the corner. What’s he doing?”
Picking Josh up by his shirt and looking directly into his eyes, he demands “Where is the canister?”
Still seeing stars, Josh mumbles, “What canister?”
Throwing Josh to the ground and leveling his weapon, the man states, “I won’t ask you again.”
Everything slows down and Josh can make out every detail of his environment, the wet grass, the dirt on the mans shoes and pant cuffs, his belt buckle and black tie, the blood on his jacket…blood? The report from the weapon sounds like long rolling thunder during a summer rain storm moving through him and away. “I didn't feel anythng. Am I dead?” Josh just sits there as the man stumbles and starts to run.
“I got him!” James yells as he looks over his pistol at his target a half a block away. “He’s running!”
Jen waists no time and calls the cops again. During her short conversation she tells the 911 operator that shots have been fired.
Pulling his wits about him, Josh gets to his feet and chases after the man. About a block later, Josh lunges into the air and pulls off one of his best open field tackles. The man slams into the pavement of the sidewalk and momentarily goes limp. Josh climbs over the top of him and again is cracked in the head with the man’s pistol. Rolling off and into the gutter, Josh hears the sound of a powerful motor and makes out two headlights coming at him. By the time Josh is on his feet the man is climbing into the suburban and disappearing down the street. Josh stops, curses, and runs back to James’ apartment.
Rounding the corner to the apartment, Josh makes out James and Jen handcuffed and being loaded into the back seat of a squad car. He takes cover and waits as the cruisers pulls away. He retrieves his rifle and retreats back to his parent’s house.
***
That morning the shoot out at the theatre is all over the local news, reporters having a field day with the story.
Josh goes to the police station and gives testimony of what happened the night before. He also turns over the canister believing it to be the best proof they have.
Earlier that morning, Jen was released and sent home.
James was booked for firing a weapon within city limits and spent the last six hours in jail. He was released on $5,000 bail posted by his parents.
Confused and angry, James waits in his apartment for a phone call from his lawyer. His parents set him up with a friend of the family. When he does call, he tells James that the cops have matched the ballistics from his gun to the one used at the theatre. He says the police are on the way to arrest him for the murders of the theatre manager and the young employee. He says that James should stay put. “We’ll get you out of this.” He consoles.
“Oh God, I’m in trouble.” James sits in his apartment his head in his hands. “What am I going to do?”
James’ cell phone rings. “Hello?”
“Run...”
“Hello? Hello!”
“Stand up and turn around.”
Josh throws the hunting rifle to the side and slowly rises turning on his heals. For the first time Josh has a look at one of the men who has been trying to kill him, tall, lean, dark hair cut short and professional, dressed in a suit and tie, holding a small caliber semi-automatic pistol with a silencer.
“He doesn't look so tuff." Josh says to himself. “I can take him.”
Before the gunman can give another command Josh lunges swinging hard for the man’s face. The gunman sees the move the moment Josh strikes and counters with a hard strong impact to Josh’s skull sending him to the ground.
Jen, sitting by the large sliding glass window in James’ apartment, looks over the street below. “What is taking them so long?” Jen says more out of aggravation then anything. “I called ten minutes ago.”
“It’s four o’clock in the morning, Jen. I am sure they will get here as soon as they can.”
“Hey! I think I see one of them. He’s across the street at the house on the corner. What’s he doing?”
Picking Josh up by his shirt and looking directly into his eyes, he demands “Where is the canister?”
Still seeing stars, Josh mumbles, “What canister?”
Throwing Josh to the ground and leveling his weapon, the man states, “I won’t ask you again.”
Everything slows down and Josh can make out every detail of his environment, the wet grass, the dirt on the mans shoes and pant cuffs, his belt buckle and black tie, the blood on his jacket…blood? The report from the weapon sounds like long rolling thunder during a summer rain storm moving through him and away. “I didn't feel anythng. Am I dead?” Josh just sits there as the man stumbles and starts to run.
“I got him!” James yells as he looks over his pistol at his target a half a block away. “He’s running!”
Jen waists no time and calls the cops again. During her short conversation she tells the 911 operator that shots have been fired.
Pulling his wits about him, Josh gets to his feet and chases after the man. About a block later, Josh lunges into the air and pulls off one of his best open field tackles. The man slams into the pavement of the sidewalk and momentarily goes limp. Josh climbs over the top of him and again is cracked in the head with the man’s pistol. Rolling off and into the gutter, Josh hears the sound of a powerful motor and makes out two headlights coming at him. By the time Josh is on his feet the man is climbing into the suburban and disappearing down the street. Josh stops, curses, and runs back to James’ apartment.
Rounding the corner to the apartment, Josh makes out James and Jen handcuffed and being loaded into the back seat of a squad car. He takes cover and waits as the cruisers pulls away. He retrieves his rifle and retreats back to his parent’s house.
***
That morning the shoot out at the theatre is all over the local news, reporters having a field day with the story.
Josh goes to the police station and gives testimony of what happened the night before. He also turns over the canister believing it to be the best proof they have.
Earlier that morning, Jen was released and sent home.
James was booked for firing a weapon within city limits and spent the last six hours in jail. He was released on $5,000 bail posted by his parents.
Confused and angry, James waits in his apartment for a phone call from his lawyer. His parents set him up with a friend of the family. When he does call, he tells James that the cops have matched the ballistics from his gun to the one used at the theatre. He says the police are on the way to arrest him for the murders of the theatre manager and the young employee. He says that James should stay put. “We’ll get you out of this.” He consoles.
“Oh God, I’m in trouble.” James sits in his apartment his head in his hands. “What am I going to do?”
James’ cell phone rings. “Hello?”
“Run...”
“Hello? Hello!”
Oh Garsh
Thanks guys. I appreciate you even stopping by and having a look.
Jon, I'm afriad you would get the short end of the stick on the adventure trade idea but here's to hoping. I read your posts on Wizards d20 modern board and am curious as to what it is you are putting together. Has wizards answered you yet regarding your request?
I will say this, changing the subject, I had as much fun running the game for this story hour as I have had DMing just about any game I have done. Watching the players deal with each situation and try to react how they thought they would was absolute joy. They were uncomfortable and hesitant, both of which I want more of in my games.
I know I have said this before but watching Jen the player struggle with the dilema she, the character, had to face at the end of the game was priceless. And you know what else? We did not use the battle mat, the staple of our D&D games, once, not once.
I'll post soon.
Thanks guys. I appreciate you even stopping by and having a look.
Jon, I'm afriad you would get the short end of the stick on the adventure trade idea but here's to hoping. I read your posts on Wizards d20 modern board and am curious as to what it is you are putting together. Has wizards answered you yet regarding your request?
I will say this, changing the subject, I had as much fun running the game for this story hour as I have had DMing just about any game I have done. Watching the players deal with each situation and try to react how they thought they would was absolute joy. They were uncomfortable and hesitant, both of which I want more of in my games.
I know I have said this before but watching Jen the player struggle with the dilema she, the character, had to face at the end of the game was priceless. And you know what else? We did not use the battle mat, the staple of our D&D games, once, not once.
I'll post soon.
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Evil Gnome
First Post
What about JFK? I have read no mention of him so far, when do we get JFK? great story hour
but it's still missing JFK
but it's still missing JFK
3:12 p.m., August 9th, 2002, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, Earth
“Josh?”
“Ya?”
“I’m out of here. I just got a strange call telling me to run…”
“Ya, I just go the same call.”
“Where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“Listen, I’m packing some stuff and getting our of here. They’re coming to arrest me for the murder of the two theatre employees…”
“What?”
“Ya, I just spoke to my lawyer and that’s what he said.”
“I’ll come and get you. Where will you be?”
“I’ll be headed east on Second Ave. I’ll be on my mountain bike.”
James wastes no time and packs a small backpack. Grabbing his pistol and a hat he sets off on his bike.
A short time later Josh pulls up behind James in his gray Nissan 4x4 hard body pickup. James notices the camping gear in the bed as he loads his bike.
“You came prepared.” James offers with a glance to the back of the truck.
“We need to pick up Jen and get out of town.” Josh returns.
They head down South Temple to 700 east and turn South to 500 south and the Trolley Corners Theatre. Leaving Josh in the car, James goes in and grabs Jen.
“I can’t just leave work. I’ll loose my job.”
“Jen, we’re in trouble, all of us.”
“Let me go!” Jen yells as James takes her by the arm and escorts her out of the building. “Let me at least tell somebody I’m leaving.”
“No time.”
They head south to the Sugarhouse area. Josh is taking residential streets and back streets to avoid the law and to buy some time to think.
James’ cell phone rings. Tentatively, he answers, “Hello?”
“Go to the junction of US highway 189 and 191, Wyoming…”
“Who was it?” Jen asks.
“The same guy.”
“What did he say!” Jen demands loosing patience with the whole thing.
“He wants us to go the junction of US highway 189 and 191 in Wyoming.” James answers.
“What? Where? Why?” Jen asks in short succession.
“It’s not like we had a long conversation. That’s all he said.” James answers staring at Jen. “What should we do?”
“Got a map?” Jen pokes Josh.
“Is the Pope catholic?” Josh throws back, “In the glove box.”
Within few minutes, our heroes have a bearing on where it is they were told to go. Josh has been alertly watching his mirrors for any sign of trouble.
“They found us.” Josh says in a monotone.
“Who?” Jen and James say in unison and take a quick look over their shoulders.
About a block away a large black suburban is closing on their position. Over the next 5 minutes Josh does his best to loose the tail but to no avail. Josh’s plan is to get to the freeway and head toward Wyoming. Going south on 17th east toward the “T” intersection with 27th south Josh gets stuck behind a bus waiting for traffic at the intersection.
“They're right behind us!” Josh yells. “Drive!” He pulls Jen into the drivers seat as he climbs out the driver side window and into the bed. James readies his pistol and Jen whimpers and she grinds the gear shifter into first. There is a reason why Jen doesn’t own a car, she doesn’t like driving, especially a manual transmission. With the bus blocking their way and the suburban right behind them, Jen freezes, seeing in her minds eye the horrible crash she is going to cause.
“GO!” Josh screams from the back of the truck. Jen can see him leveling his pistol at the suburban. The suburban drivers side widow is lowering and Jen can see the driver’s silhouette moving a weapon from his lap to the open window. James is opening his door, climbing out the window isn’t as easy when your 6 feet 7 inches tall, not quite sure what to do.
She shuts her eyes rolls the steering wheel to the right and slams her foot on the accelerator. Lurching forward, the pickup bounces up and over the curb, smashes the fence surrounding the yard of the home on the corner, dodges the telephone pole and screeches out in front of traffic west bound on 27th south. Pealing her hands off the steering wheel, Jen wipes her forehead with a shaking palm.
“Wow.” James says with a relieved look on his face.
“Good job!” Josh yells from the bed of the pickup.
“Thank God he didn’t fall out.” Jen whisper under her breath.
Rocketing north on 13th east, Jen takes the east bound on ramp to I-215 and then takes I-80 east bound up Parleys Canyon.
Jen, a conservative driver, soon brings the pickup to a “safe” and “reasonable” speed. She feels confident that she has put that black suburban behind them. Her confidence is soon shaken, however, as there is a rapid tapping on the rear glass and Josh is yelling “They’re coming and gaining on us!”
“Let me drive!”
“What. Now?” her tone giving away only a portion of how stupid she thinks the idea is.
“Trade me. NOW!”
With only a minor course correction and the angry stares of an older couple in a passing Buick, James takes control of the Nissan. Giving no mind to what he may be doing to the engine, James downshifts and floors the gas pedal.
Near the top of the canyon where the roadway is steepest, “They’re right on us!” Jen declares staring out the rear window. She sees that Josh has taken out a hunting rifle and has barricaded himself behind his camping gear giving him decent cover. He is lying prone and steadying the rifle on the tailgate.
The suburban accelerates and rams the back of the truck.
“What the hell?” James enunciates through gritted teeth desperately keeping control of the pickup.
“That’s it” Josh says to himself as he squeezes off a shot at point blank range. The windshield spider webs right above where the drives head should be, no visible effect. “Damn it!” Josh grumbles as he pulls back on the bolt and chambers another round. His rifle sings out again this time at the same moment James makes a small course correction, the shot missing the suburban entirely. The passenger side rear window of the suburban slides down and a compact automatic pistol precedes the man Josh fought with out into the gusting air. Josh ducks his head down and into cover as a hail of bullets pincushions the tailgate and shatters the rear window of the pickup. Jen and James duck as glass showers all around them. Josh pops up, levels the rifle and fires off another round, striking the grill of the dark suburban. Another hail of bullets sparks off the pickup and the small truck is rammed again from behind.
“We can’t take much more or this.” James says over the wind. “Jen?”
Looking into the back of the truck, Jen’s face is pale and full of shock. “I think he’s dead.”
“Josh?”
“Ya?”
“I’m out of here. I just got a strange call telling me to run…”
“Ya, I just go the same call.”
“Where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“Listen, I’m packing some stuff and getting our of here. They’re coming to arrest me for the murder of the two theatre employees…”
“What?”
“Ya, I just spoke to my lawyer and that’s what he said.”
“I’ll come and get you. Where will you be?”
“I’ll be headed east on Second Ave. I’ll be on my mountain bike.”
James wastes no time and packs a small backpack. Grabbing his pistol and a hat he sets off on his bike.
A short time later Josh pulls up behind James in his gray Nissan 4x4 hard body pickup. James notices the camping gear in the bed as he loads his bike.
“You came prepared.” James offers with a glance to the back of the truck.
“We need to pick up Jen and get out of town.” Josh returns.
They head down South Temple to 700 east and turn South to 500 south and the Trolley Corners Theatre. Leaving Josh in the car, James goes in and grabs Jen.
“I can’t just leave work. I’ll loose my job.”
“Jen, we’re in trouble, all of us.”
“Let me go!” Jen yells as James takes her by the arm and escorts her out of the building. “Let me at least tell somebody I’m leaving.”
“No time.”
They head south to the Sugarhouse area. Josh is taking residential streets and back streets to avoid the law and to buy some time to think.
James’ cell phone rings. Tentatively, he answers, “Hello?”
“Go to the junction of US highway 189 and 191, Wyoming…”
“Who was it?” Jen asks.
“The same guy.”
“What did he say!” Jen demands loosing patience with the whole thing.
“He wants us to go the junction of US highway 189 and 191 in Wyoming.” James answers.
“What? Where? Why?” Jen asks in short succession.
“It’s not like we had a long conversation. That’s all he said.” James answers staring at Jen. “What should we do?”
“Got a map?” Jen pokes Josh.
“Is the Pope catholic?” Josh throws back, “In the glove box.”
Within few minutes, our heroes have a bearing on where it is they were told to go. Josh has been alertly watching his mirrors for any sign of trouble.
“They found us.” Josh says in a monotone.
“Who?” Jen and James say in unison and take a quick look over their shoulders.
About a block away a large black suburban is closing on their position. Over the next 5 minutes Josh does his best to loose the tail but to no avail. Josh’s plan is to get to the freeway and head toward Wyoming. Going south on 17th east toward the “T” intersection with 27th south Josh gets stuck behind a bus waiting for traffic at the intersection.
“They're right behind us!” Josh yells. “Drive!” He pulls Jen into the drivers seat as he climbs out the driver side window and into the bed. James readies his pistol and Jen whimpers and she grinds the gear shifter into first. There is a reason why Jen doesn’t own a car, she doesn’t like driving, especially a manual transmission. With the bus blocking their way and the suburban right behind them, Jen freezes, seeing in her minds eye the horrible crash she is going to cause.
“GO!” Josh screams from the back of the truck. Jen can see him leveling his pistol at the suburban. The suburban drivers side widow is lowering and Jen can see the driver’s silhouette moving a weapon from his lap to the open window. James is opening his door, climbing out the window isn’t as easy when your 6 feet 7 inches tall, not quite sure what to do.
She shuts her eyes rolls the steering wheel to the right and slams her foot on the accelerator. Lurching forward, the pickup bounces up and over the curb, smashes the fence surrounding the yard of the home on the corner, dodges the telephone pole and screeches out in front of traffic west bound on 27th south. Pealing her hands off the steering wheel, Jen wipes her forehead with a shaking palm.
“Wow.” James says with a relieved look on his face.
“Good job!” Josh yells from the bed of the pickup.
“Thank God he didn’t fall out.” Jen whisper under her breath.
Rocketing north on 13th east, Jen takes the east bound on ramp to I-215 and then takes I-80 east bound up Parleys Canyon.
Jen, a conservative driver, soon brings the pickup to a “safe” and “reasonable” speed. She feels confident that she has put that black suburban behind them. Her confidence is soon shaken, however, as there is a rapid tapping on the rear glass and Josh is yelling “They’re coming and gaining on us!”
“Let me drive!”
“What. Now?” her tone giving away only a portion of how stupid she thinks the idea is.
“Trade me. NOW!”
With only a minor course correction and the angry stares of an older couple in a passing Buick, James takes control of the Nissan. Giving no mind to what he may be doing to the engine, James downshifts and floors the gas pedal.
Near the top of the canyon where the roadway is steepest, “They’re right on us!” Jen declares staring out the rear window. She sees that Josh has taken out a hunting rifle and has barricaded himself behind his camping gear giving him decent cover. He is lying prone and steadying the rifle on the tailgate.
The suburban accelerates and rams the back of the truck.
“What the hell?” James enunciates through gritted teeth desperately keeping control of the pickup.
“That’s it” Josh says to himself as he squeezes off a shot at point blank range. The windshield spider webs right above where the drives head should be, no visible effect. “Damn it!” Josh grumbles as he pulls back on the bolt and chambers another round. His rifle sings out again this time at the same moment James makes a small course correction, the shot missing the suburban entirely. The passenger side rear window of the suburban slides down and a compact automatic pistol precedes the man Josh fought with out into the gusting air. Josh ducks his head down and into cover as a hail of bullets pincushions the tailgate and shatters the rear window of the pickup. Jen and James duck as glass showers all around them. Josh pops up, levels the rifle and fires off another round, striking the grill of the dark suburban. Another hail of bullets sparks off the pickup and the small truck is rammed again from behind.
“We can’t take much more or this.” James says over the wind. “Jen?”
Looking into the back of the truck, Jen’s face is pale and full of shock. “I think he’s dead.”
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