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Pulp Spycraft (FINAL UPDATE!) *Updated 04/15/03*
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<blockquote data-quote="jonrog1" data-source="post: 839313" data-attributes="member: 189"><p><strong>PULP SPYCRAFT</strong></p><p></p><p>More stones rained from the roof of the mansion and monastery. A constant fog of dust and smoke fomr small fires now rolled through the laboratory and into the mansion foyer. Nadia backed away, shoving McGregor behind her. She knew she had a gun, but the little .32 wasn't too confidence-inspiring when faced with a homcicidal brain-harvesting cabaret-singing Nazi sympathizer.</p><p></p><p>Flanked by armed guards, Mountheim lurched forward with the guillotine basket. It arced out toward Nadia --</p><p></p><p>BOOM BOOM BOOM. Mountheim gasped as two of his men dropped, their faces now existing nowhere but in their sainted mothers' memories. Furio descended on Nadia's shoe-rappelling line, his .45 thundering. Mountheim and his men scurried back. Furio's gun clacked empty halfway down. Furio released the rope so he could draw his spare automatic with the opposite hand. He fell the remaining ten feet, landed like a cat. The new .45 BLAZED at the Nazis even as he dropped the empty gun, shoulder-rolled past a fallen guard and snagged that man's weapon without breaking momentum. Standing, he pirouetted, a tornado of high-caliber happiness. "Sorry I was delayed, <em>ma bella</em>."</p><p></p><p>Nadia could now return fire to the few stormtroopers in the lab. She gasped as another squadron of stormtroopers appeared in the foyer and rushed Furio. Then, unbelievably, Furio <em>fled</em>.</p><p></p><p>The mobster sprinted past a surprised Mountheim, straight out the front doors. Mountheim's men pulled themselves together, and the stormtroopers pivoted to face Nadia. </p><p></p><p>"Alive," Mountheim screamed. "I need her brain to be alive when I harvest it!"</p><p></p><p>Nadia, genius that she was, couldn't figure a way out of this. What could stop ten stormtroopers? They strode forward, black coats flaring behind them like great wings --</p><p></p><p>"Hey, what's black and silver and hits like a <strong>LITTLE FRIKKIN' GIRL</strong>?"</p><p></p><p>Captain Texas exploded from the connecting corridor between the monastery and mansion. His shield led him in midair, REBOUNDING viciously from SS skull to skull. Four of the men were down even as the shield SNAPPED back into his hand. Then he was on them. </p><p></p><p>Captain Texas was only a few steps ahead of the guards who'd been firing at him in the tower. They caught up with the fray and dove in. Instantly, Houston was surrounded by a dozen Nazis. He was magnificent. He was too close; they couldn't use their guns. He tore through them, his shield a blur of motion. All one could see was the Lone Star, whirring through the jerking puppets that once were SS. Highly trained killers whimpered as Captain Texas beat them like red-headed stepchildren.</p><p></p><p>Mountheim directed another wave into the fray. Even Captain Texas could be borne down by enough sheer weight. He faltered for a second, the momentum shifting --</p><p></p><p>The front doors SLAMMED open. Mountheim turned. He squealed and dove out of the way.</p><p></p><p>Furio filled the doorway. He held a modified tommy gun in both hands. The barrel was big enough to cram a hand into. And that drum ... her father had designed one of those. What was it called ... </p><p></p><p>... a <strong><em>chaingun</em></strong>? "I left my little friend in the car." Furio grinned. "Hey, Dutchy ... say hello to my little friend."</p><p></p><p>Nadia knew it was just muzzle flash. It looked like a flamethrower.</p><p></p><p>Captain Texas dropped to one knee, raised his shield. All around him the Nazis spun and twitched as if they'd been dropped in a blender. Little bits of stormtrooper repainted the foyer.</p><p></p><p>By the side exit, Mountheim crawled away. His plans, his life, his home were <em>literally</em> collapsing around him. Suddenly, through the bomb blasts and the crashing stone and plaster and the ROAR of Furio's chaingun, he heard a single, high <strong>whistle</strong> pierce the air. He turned.</p><p></p><p>Nadia held the guillotine basket. She smiled grimly. Mountheim sighed. "Not the face."</p><p></p><p>A CLICK. And darkness.</p><p></p><p>******************************</p><p></p><p>Later, under a pitch black moonless night, three figures stood atop a tall building, watching London burn. In the center of the latest firestorm was the wreckage of Lord Moutheim's mansion and secret lab. The flames filled the horizon, a hellish panorama of suffering.</p><p></p><p>Nadia shivered. It didn't surprise her when Houston immediately draped his great longcoat about her. What did surprise her was that she didn't mind. She caught herself leaning into him. <em>Must be the transgenic pherenomes</em>, she thought to herself.</p><p></p><p>"So I told Lucky what happened. Lucky says killing the lieutenant is good, but I gotta kill the boss so the German mob knows not to screw with Luciano's crew." Furio blew out a sweetly-scented smoke ring. "So I gotta kill the head of this German crew."</p><p></p><p>Nadia stared at him. "That's Adolph Hitler."</p><p></p><p>Furio shrugged. "Whatever."</p><p></p><p>"<em>Would</em> you be interested in a little trip to the continent?" </p><p></p><p>All three spun, punctuated by the double CLICK of Furio thumbing back two hammers. Silhouetted in the firestorm glow, a slender man leaned casually against the doorway to the roof. His voice held just the trace of a Scottish burr. He lit a cigarette. He was impossibly handsome without being pretty, obviously built for combat under the most expensive tuxedo Nadia had ever seen. He smiled. "I'm making a little trip myself. Kriegstein suggested you may be interested."</p><p></p><p>The Agents of Extraordinary Caliber stepped toward him. "You just start talkin', Tommy, and I'll tell you when I feel the bullsh&t in my boots."</p><p></p><p>The man chuckled. It wasn't unfriendly, but ... well, Nadia imagined that was rather what Death sounded like when he chuckled. If he liked you. "New agency in the British intelligence. I'm the first operative they've assigned."</p><p></p><p>"And your name is --?" Nadia demanded impatiently.</p><p></p><p>With impossible style the man flipped his lit match out into the apocalyptic flames.</p><p></p><p>"Bond. Eamon Bond." </p><p></p><p>Pause. </p><p></p><p>"I'm agent 001."</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><strong> END OF PULP SPYCRAFT </strong></p><p></p><p><strong>To Be Continued ... ?</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jonrog1, post: 839313, member: 189"] [b]PULP SPYCRAFT[/b] More stones rained from the roof of the mansion and monastery. A constant fog of dust and smoke fomr small fires now rolled through the laboratory and into the mansion foyer. Nadia backed away, shoving McGregor behind her. She knew she had a gun, but the little .32 wasn't too confidence-inspiring when faced with a homcicidal brain-harvesting cabaret-singing Nazi sympathizer. Flanked by armed guards, Mountheim lurched forward with the guillotine basket. It arced out toward Nadia -- BOOM BOOM BOOM. Mountheim gasped as two of his men dropped, their faces now existing nowhere but in their sainted mothers' memories. Furio descended on Nadia's shoe-rappelling line, his .45 thundering. Mountheim and his men scurried back. Furio's gun clacked empty halfway down. Furio released the rope so he could draw his spare automatic with the opposite hand. He fell the remaining ten feet, landed like a cat. The new .45 BLAZED at the Nazis even as he dropped the empty gun, shoulder-rolled past a fallen guard and snagged that man's weapon without breaking momentum. Standing, he pirouetted, a tornado of high-caliber happiness. "Sorry I was delayed, [i]ma bella[/i]." Nadia could now return fire to the few stormtroopers in the lab. She gasped as another squadron of stormtroopers appeared in the foyer and rushed Furio. Then, unbelievably, Furio [i]fled[/i]. The mobster sprinted past a surprised Mountheim, straight out the front doors. Mountheim's men pulled themselves together, and the stormtroopers pivoted to face Nadia. "Alive," Mountheim screamed. "I need her brain to be alive when I harvest it!" Nadia, genius that she was, couldn't figure a way out of this. What could stop ten stormtroopers? They strode forward, black coats flaring behind them like great wings -- "Hey, what's black and silver and hits like a [b]LITTLE FRIKKIN' GIRL[/b]?" Captain Texas exploded from the connecting corridor between the monastery and mansion. His shield led him in midair, REBOUNDING viciously from SS skull to skull. Four of the men were down even as the shield SNAPPED back into his hand. Then he was on them. Captain Texas was only a few steps ahead of the guards who'd been firing at him in the tower. They caught up with the fray and dove in. Instantly, Houston was surrounded by a dozen Nazis. He was magnificent. He was too close; they couldn't use their guns. He tore through them, his shield a blur of motion. All one could see was the Lone Star, whirring through the jerking puppets that once were SS. Highly trained killers whimpered as Captain Texas beat them like red-headed stepchildren. Mountheim directed another wave into the fray. Even Captain Texas could be borne down by enough sheer weight. He faltered for a second, the momentum shifting -- The front doors SLAMMED open. Mountheim turned. He squealed and dove out of the way. Furio filled the doorway. He held a modified tommy gun in both hands. The barrel was big enough to cram a hand into. And that drum ... her father had designed one of those. What was it called ... ... a [b][i]chaingun[/i][/b]? "I left my little friend in the car." Furio grinned. "Hey, Dutchy ... say hello to my little friend." Nadia knew it was just muzzle flash. It looked like a flamethrower. Captain Texas dropped to one knee, raised his shield. All around him the Nazis spun and twitched as if they'd been dropped in a blender. Little bits of stormtrooper repainted the foyer. By the side exit, Mountheim crawled away. His plans, his life, his home were [i]literally[/i] collapsing around him. Suddenly, through the bomb blasts and the crashing stone and plaster and the ROAR of Furio's chaingun, he heard a single, high [b]whistle[/b] pierce the air. He turned. Nadia held the guillotine basket. She smiled grimly. Mountheim sighed. "Not the face." A CLICK. And darkness. ****************************** Later, under a pitch black moonless night, three figures stood atop a tall building, watching London burn. In the center of the latest firestorm was the wreckage of Lord Moutheim's mansion and secret lab. The flames filled the horizon, a hellish panorama of suffering. Nadia shivered. It didn't surprise her when Houston immediately draped his great longcoat about her. What did surprise her was that she didn't mind. She caught herself leaning into him. [i]Must be the transgenic pherenomes[/i], she thought to herself. "So I told Lucky what happened. Lucky says killing the lieutenant is good, but I gotta kill the boss so the German mob knows not to screw with Luciano's crew." Furio blew out a sweetly-scented smoke ring. "So I gotta kill the head of this German crew." Nadia stared at him. "That's Adolph Hitler." Furio shrugged. "Whatever." "[i]Would[/i] you be interested in a little trip to the continent?" All three spun, punctuated by the double CLICK of Furio thumbing back two hammers. Silhouetted in the firestorm glow, a slender man leaned casually against the doorway to the roof. His voice held just the trace of a Scottish burr. He lit a cigarette. He was impossibly handsome without being pretty, obviously built for combat under the most expensive tuxedo Nadia had ever seen. He smiled. "I'm making a little trip myself. Kriegstein suggested you may be interested." The Agents of Extraordinary Caliber stepped toward him. "You just start talkin', Tommy, and I'll tell you when I feel the bullsh&t in my boots." The man chuckled. It wasn't unfriendly, but ... well, Nadia imagined that was rather what Death sounded like when he chuckled. If he liked you. "New agency in the British intelligence. I'm the first operative they've assigned." "And your name is --?" Nadia demanded impatiently. With impossible style the man flipped his lit match out into the apocalyptic flames. "Bond. Eamon Bond." Pause. "I'm agent 001." [b] END OF PULP SPYCRAFT [/b] [b]To Be Continued ... ?[/b] [/QUOTE]
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