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High Fantasy Modern Storyhour - The Long Road (updated December 7)
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<blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2846142" data-attributes="member: 63"><p><em>November 1, 2005</em></p><p><em>7:30 am</em></p><p></p><p>“Yo, Robot,” Scarpedin says. “Santa’s here!”</p><p></p><p>Robert mutters something vulgar from beneath his pillow. Scarpedin is undeterred, and he keeps yelling at Robert until the man sits up and comes to the window, rubbing his eyes.</p><p></p><p>“Take a look at this, killer,” Scarpedin says.</p><p></p><p>Robert peers through the sniper scope, and recognizes Nathan’s BMW, with rough patches of unpainted metal – the remnants of bodywork done to repair bullet holes. The car is only half-visible, parked down the street from the Starbucks, unobtrusive. A quick sweep of the area shows that of the Bureau, no one, not even John, has spotted it yet.</p><p></p><p>“How the hell’d you spot that?” Robert says.</p><p></p><p>Scarpedin looks offended. “You don’t understand the level of restraint required for a bored man with a sniper rifle. Anyway, what’s Nathan doing here?”</p><p></p><p>“Do you think he sold out to Mr. Lee?” Robert says. “Oh, wait, John probably called him.”</p><p></p><p>“We can’t trust him,” Scarpedin says. “He’s British.”</p><p></p><p>“Scarpedin, you’re some sort of knight of the round table. That makes you British.”</p><p></p><p>Scarpedin shrugs in acceptance.</p><p></p><p>“Quick,” Robert asks, “what’s John’s number? I need to make sure he called Nathan and that we don’t have a third party gonna f*ck everything up.”</p><p></p><p>“John doesn’t have a cell phone.”</p><p></p><p>Robert sighs. After a moment he grumbles and starts to call Raine, intending to get a Bureau agent to hand John a cell phone. “Man needs to get into the twenty-first century.”</p><p></p><p><em>* * *</em></p><p></p><p>A man in a black suit comes up to the bus stop and hands John a cell phone, then nods and hurries back to his concealed location. The phone rings almost immediately, and John listens to Robert berate him briefly before getting to the point. John frowns and sighs.</p><p></p><p>“Nathan? No, I didn’t call him. I didn’t have a phone until just now.”</p><p></p><p>John cranes his neck to try to get a good view through the windows of the Starbucks, but just then a pair of cars, far too fancy for the neighborhood, pull up across the street. John takes cover, then whispers into his shoulder radio.</p><p></p><p>“They’re here,” he says.</p><p></p><p>Over his earpiece, Raine says, “Be on guard. Remember, we need him alive, and we need zero profile on this operation.”</p><p></p><p>More chatter fills his ear, but he’s distracted when he sees just who’s getting out of the car. Over the phone he hears Robert’s reaction too, and the man does not sound pleased.</p><p></p><p><em>* * *</em></p><p></p><p>Jobe Bundholm is sipping his tall brazilian caramel mocha latte as he eats an egg McMuffin, while Nathan considers his vision. He needs to be on the look-out for anyone with a briefcase, or any pair with a man and a woman.</p><p></p><p>Outside, two black cars pull up at the curb, and the doors open. Out steps Adrien Lee, wearing a five-thousand dollar suit and holding a twenty-dollar briefcase, and then beside him comes his daughter Belladonna, wearing the sexiest outfit Nathan has seen in recent memory. </p><p></p><p>“I don’t think they’re here for the coffee,” he says to himself.</p><p></p><p>Jobe looks up and hums in curiosity. Nathan smiles to him reassuringly.</p><p></p><p>“I’m fairly certain, Mr. Bundholm, that the man with the bomb is about to come in. I’ll distract him if I can. Are you ready?”</p><p></p><p>Jobe takes a gulp of his latte, cringes at the heat, then nods.</p><p></p><p>The door opens, and Nathan is about to stand and greet Belladonna. But even though she looks directly at him, she directs her father to a table in the middle of the room, and the only reaction she has at his presence is an odd, rather meaningful look in her eyes. Nathan can’t help but think it’s a plea. The father and daughter sit down silently without ordering, and Mr. Lee places the suitcase at his feet.</p><p></p><p>Nathan concentrates, sending out his mind to try to feel what Belladonna is thinking, but he cannot get in. It feels like someone else is already there, and Nathan nearly is spotted by the second presence before he withdraws his psychic intrusion. There is much more to this situation than Nathan had originally guessed, but he doesn’t know how long he has until the bomb goes off.</p><p></p><p>“Belladonna!” he shouts. He stands up, arms wide and cheerful as he slowly approaches the table. “I didn’t expect to see you here today! What’s going on? Who is this?”</p><p></p><p>The stiffness in Belladonna’s posture fades slightly, but when she speaks her tone is nervous.</p><p></p><p>“Nathan,” she says, “you shouldn’t be here. My father and I are here on . . . very important business. Maybe you should <em>leave</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh yes, I remember,” Nathan says, “you’re here to meet a young man, which is why you’re so well dressed, but your father is very possessive?”</p><p></p><p>Belladonna frowns angrily, and says, “No.”</p><p></p><p>“You’re going shopping in this wonderfully run-down part of town?”</p><p></p><p>“No,” Belladonna says.</p><p></p><p>Nathan thinks he sees the faintest smile struggle onto Belladonna’s face. She is thankful to see him, he knows, but he doesn’t know how to free her from whatever compulsion holds her.</p><p></p><p>Nathan sees Jobe Bundholm in the corner of his eye, crawling across the ground toward the Lees’ table. It looks like the motion is starting to attract Belladonna and her father’s attention, but Nathan slaps his hand on the table.</p><p></p><p>“Yes!” he shouts. “I can’t believe I forgot! It’s your father’s birthday! Coffee barrista, get this man-. No, get everyone here a cup of whatever they care to drink, on me! Nothing is too good for the father of my dear friend Belladonna!”</p><p></p><p>Belladonna stiffens again, and now Adrien Lee moves. Nathan guesses that one person must be controlling the both of them.</p><p></p><p>“Who are you?” Mr. Lee says, his voice raw and angry.</p><p></p><p>“Nathaniel Beckford,” Nathan says. “I gave your daughter a ride from Texas.”</p><p></p><p>Mr. Lee’s eyes unfocus slightly and roll up for a moment, but then the man leans back nervously. “You’re the psychic.”</p><p></p><p>Nathan nods, but before he can speak he feels something try to grip his mind and take command of him. Nathan shrugs off the compulsion easily, then reaches out smoothly and takes a cup of coffee from the barrista’s tray as she walks by. He sips and smirks to Adrien Lee.</p><p></p><p>“Happy birthday,” he says, keeping the man’s attention focused on him.</p><p></p><p><em>* * *</em></p><p></p><p>“What’s going on down there?” Robert asks over the phone.</p><p></p><p>“Y’know,” John says, “I really have no idea.”</p><p></p><p>He draws on his cigarette.</p><p></p><p>“I can’t read lips too well, but it looks like he’s leading everyone in the shop in a round of the happy birthday song. Wait, something’s happening. A guy just stood up out of nowhere.”</p><p></p><p><em>* * *</em></p><p></p><p>“Done,” Jobe says as he stands. </p><p></p><p>He holds out a small black cylinder, and tucks a pair of wire cutters into his pocket. </p><p></p><p>“I took out the battery, and cut the detonation line. Bomb’s disarmed.”</p><p></p><p>The barrista turns in curiosity. “Bomb?”</p><p></p><p>Adrien Lee is looking down at the suitcase on the floor at his feet. It lies open, with a professionally-disarmed bomb sitting out in the clear view of everyone in the room. The barrista sees it too, as do several patrons who are still singing, ‘How old are you?’ The room goes quiet.</p><p></p><p>“No one panic,” Nathan says. “I have the situation under control.”</p><p></p><p>He takes the battery from Jobe’s hand and stamps it on the ground while everyone watches nervously.</p><p></p><p>He has only a moment’s warning as Adrien Lee’s demeanor shifts from angry to coldly murderous. The man pulls a gun and aims for Nathan’s chest, and in the same moment Belladonna screams, Jobe ducks for cover, and the barrista grabs Mr. Lee’s arm and deflects the shot so it misses Nathan’s heart.</p><p></p><p>Inside the Starbucks, the breakfast crowd panics and runs shrieking for the door, while outside the Bureau sounds the alert and begins to rush in. Amid the chaos, Nathan takes a moment to savor another vision averted. He ducks, grabs the briefcase, and runs for the door along with the throng. He hears gunshots and yelling from Belladonna and her father, but he knows he needs to keep this bomb away from Adrien Lee and the telepath controlling him.</p><p></p><p>Nathan runs out into the street, intending to head for his car. There are many people scattered around him, so his pace is irregular, which saves his life. The sniper rifle shot aimed for his heart instead catches him in the shoulder, the street roars with the retort of a hypersonic bullet. Nathan cries out in pain, but he’s drowned out by the even greater screams from the terrified crowd.</p><p></p><p>As he runs for the cover of a nearby car, Nathan wishes that his visions would be a bit more forthcoming with details in the future.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RangerWickett, post: 2846142, member: 63"] [i]November 1, 2005 7:30 am[/i] “Yo, Robot,” Scarpedin says. “Santa’s here!” Robert mutters something vulgar from beneath his pillow. Scarpedin is undeterred, and he keeps yelling at Robert until the man sits up and comes to the window, rubbing his eyes. “Take a look at this, killer,” Scarpedin says. Robert peers through the sniper scope, and recognizes Nathan’s BMW, with rough patches of unpainted metal – the remnants of bodywork done to repair bullet holes. The car is only half-visible, parked down the street from the Starbucks, unobtrusive. A quick sweep of the area shows that of the Bureau, no one, not even John, has spotted it yet. “How the hell’d you spot that?” Robert says. Scarpedin looks offended. “You don’t understand the level of restraint required for a bored man with a sniper rifle. Anyway, what’s Nathan doing here?” “Do you think he sold out to Mr. Lee?” Robert says. “Oh, wait, John probably called him.” “We can’t trust him,” Scarpedin says. “He’s British.” “Scarpedin, you’re some sort of knight of the round table. That makes you British.” Scarpedin shrugs in acceptance. “Quick,” Robert asks, “what’s John’s number? I need to make sure he called Nathan and that we don’t have a third party gonna f*ck everything up.” “John doesn’t have a cell phone.” Robert sighs. After a moment he grumbles and starts to call Raine, intending to get a Bureau agent to hand John a cell phone. “Man needs to get into the twenty-first century.” [i]* * *[/i] A man in a black suit comes up to the bus stop and hands John a cell phone, then nods and hurries back to his concealed location. The phone rings almost immediately, and John listens to Robert berate him briefly before getting to the point. John frowns and sighs. “Nathan? No, I didn’t call him. I didn’t have a phone until just now.” John cranes his neck to try to get a good view through the windows of the Starbucks, but just then a pair of cars, far too fancy for the neighborhood, pull up across the street. John takes cover, then whispers into his shoulder radio. “They’re here,” he says. Over his earpiece, Raine says, “Be on guard. Remember, we need him alive, and we need zero profile on this operation.” More chatter fills his ear, but he’s distracted when he sees just who’s getting out of the car. Over the phone he hears Robert’s reaction too, and the man does not sound pleased. [i]* * *[/i] Jobe Bundholm is sipping his tall brazilian caramel mocha latte as he eats an egg McMuffin, while Nathan considers his vision. He needs to be on the look-out for anyone with a briefcase, or any pair with a man and a woman. Outside, two black cars pull up at the curb, and the doors open. Out steps Adrien Lee, wearing a five-thousand dollar suit and holding a twenty-dollar briefcase, and then beside him comes his daughter Belladonna, wearing the sexiest outfit Nathan has seen in recent memory. “I don’t think they’re here for the coffee,” he says to himself. Jobe looks up and hums in curiosity. Nathan smiles to him reassuringly. “I’m fairly certain, Mr. Bundholm, that the man with the bomb is about to come in. I’ll distract him if I can. Are you ready?” Jobe takes a gulp of his latte, cringes at the heat, then nods. The door opens, and Nathan is about to stand and greet Belladonna. But even though she looks directly at him, she directs her father to a table in the middle of the room, and the only reaction she has at his presence is an odd, rather meaningful look in her eyes. Nathan can’t help but think it’s a plea. The father and daughter sit down silently without ordering, and Mr. Lee places the suitcase at his feet. Nathan concentrates, sending out his mind to try to feel what Belladonna is thinking, but he cannot get in. It feels like someone else is already there, and Nathan nearly is spotted by the second presence before he withdraws his psychic intrusion. There is much more to this situation than Nathan had originally guessed, but he doesn’t know how long he has until the bomb goes off. “Belladonna!” he shouts. He stands up, arms wide and cheerful as he slowly approaches the table. “I didn’t expect to see you here today! What’s going on? Who is this?” The stiffness in Belladonna’s posture fades slightly, but when she speaks her tone is nervous. “Nathan,” she says, “you shouldn’t be here. My father and I are here on . . . very important business. Maybe you should [i]leave[/i].” “Oh yes, I remember,” Nathan says, “you’re here to meet a young man, which is why you’re so well dressed, but your father is very possessive?” Belladonna frowns angrily, and says, “No.” “You’re going shopping in this wonderfully run-down part of town?” “No,” Belladonna says. Nathan thinks he sees the faintest smile struggle onto Belladonna’s face. She is thankful to see him, he knows, but he doesn’t know how to free her from whatever compulsion holds her. Nathan sees Jobe Bundholm in the corner of his eye, crawling across the ground toward the Lees’ table. It looks like the motion is starting to attract Belladonna and her father’s attention, but Nathan slaps his hand on the table. “Yes!” he shouts. “I can’t believe I forgot! It’s your father’s birthday! Coffee barrista, get this man-. No, get everyone here a cup of whatever they care to drink, on me! Nothing is too good for the father of my dear friend Belladonna!” Belladonna stiffens again, and now Adrien Lee moves. Nathan guesses that one person must be controlling the both of them. “Who are you?” Mr. Lee says, his voice raw and angry. “Nathaniel Beckford,” Nathan says. “I gave your daughter a ride from Texas.” Mr. Lee’s eyes unfocus slightly and roll up for a moment, but then the man leans back nervously. “You’re the psychic.” Nathan nods, but before he can speak he feels something try to grip his mind and take command of him. Nathan shrugs off the compulsion easily, then reaches out smoothly and takes a cup of coffee from the barrista’s tray as she walks by. He sips and smirks to Adrien Lee. “Happy birthday,” he says, keeping the man’s attention focused on him. [i]* * *[/i] “What’s going on down there?” Robert asks over the phone. “Y’know,” John says, “I really have no idea.” He draws on his cigarette. “I can’t read lips too well, but it looks like he’s leading everyone in the shop in a round of the happy birthday song. Wait, something’s happening. A guy just stood up out of nowhere.” [i]* * *[/i] “Done,” Jobe says as he stands. He holds out a small black cylinder, and tucks a pair of wire cutters into his pocket. “I took out the battery, and cut the detonation line. Bomb’s disarmed.” The barrista turns in curiosity. “Bomb?” Adrien Lee is looking down at the suitcase on the floor at his feet. It lies open, with a professionally-disarmed bomb sitting out in the clear view of everyone in the room. The barrista sees it too, as do several patrons who are still singing, ‘How old are you?’ The room goes quiet. “No one panic,” Nathan says. “I have the situation under control.” He takes the battery from Jobe’s hand and stamps it on the ground while everyone watches nervously. He has only a moment’s warning as Adrien Lee’s demeanor shifts from angry to coldly murderous. The man pulls a gun and aims for Nathan’s chest, and in the same moment Belladonna screams, Jobe ducks for cover, and the barrista grabs Mr. Lee’s arm and deflects the shot so it misses Nathan’s heart. Inside the Starbucks, the breakfast crowd panics and runs shrieking for the door, while outside the Bureau sounds the alert and begins to rush in. Amid the chaos, Nathan takes a moment to savor another vision averted. He ducks, grabs the briefcase, and runs for the door along with the throng. He hears gunshots and yelling from Belladonna and her father, but he knows he needs to keep this bomb away from Adrien Lee and the telepath controlling him. Nathan runs out into the street, intending to head for his car. There are many people scattered around him, so his pace is irregular, which saves his life. The sniper rifle shot aimed for his heart instead catches him in the shoulder, the street roars with the retort of a hypersonic bullet. Nathan cries out in pain, but he’s drowned out by the even greater screams from the terrified crowd. As he runs for the cover of a nearby car, Nathan wishes that his visions would be a bit more forthcoming with details in the future. [/QUOTE]
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