Thursday, 7 June 2012

Part 1 of a new story which hasn't a name yet!

The rain pelted down as the young man who seemed to be in his twenties walked across the old boat yard. He was dressed in a dark black trench coat which seemed to reflect the water from his body. He edged ever closer to the rusted grey metal ship, picking up speed. His body language was calm as he hurried as the beaten, grimy yard. A black hood hung over his face, covering it from anyone seeing it. On top of the hood a hat of the same colour lay hanging sideways. The man finally got to the ugly vessel and hopping up onto the boarding plank he hurried up to a rusted metal door. The rain had gotten heavier since he had entered the yard and he was damn glad of the coat he had on, keeping him dry. By now, it seemed a small river had appeared ankle deep. The man grabbed onto the door and pulled but it wouldn't budge. One side looked melted and it was jammed onto the side of the boat blocking entrance. He pulled again, deciding it was fruitless when it didn’t budge. He stepped back and snapping his leg up, he kicked the door. It moved slightly, half an inch inwards. He repeated the motion and the door collapsed backwards, falling straight towards him. The man had to backflip and crouching on his knees, slid down the boarding plank narrowly missing the doors wrath.  He did things like this everyday though, narrowly avoiding death. It was his job, after all. The man slowly creeped back up the metal plank and cautiously as it creaked loudly and hopped in through the door.

          Spinning around slowly the man took out a flash light and switched it on. It beamed forward showing the entrance room to once a mighty vessel. He walked over to nearest wall and admired the beauty of once a magnificent sailing ship. There was a huge gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling, held up by a long massive chain. It once held numerous lights but now only light holders. The remainder of the bulbs lay across the ground in a sheet of broken glass. The light from the torch bounced off the broken glass and reflected onto the ceiling. Shadows bounced only making the man jump and be only more cautious of his surroundings.  He took another step and was more aware of the silent crunch of the glass from underneath his feet. He shone the torch towards the wall, showing what used to be gold wall paper, intricately designed.  The remnants of it now were just torn and cut. Blood lay on the walls which just added to the creepiness level. The man stalked slowly to where he saw a staircase and latching his hands on both the banisters, placing the torch in his mouth he slowly climbed.

From the perfect viewpoint in the bridge of the large grey vessel, Jasmina Rocaine saw the young man enter the deserted ship. He had crossed the yard thinking he was undetected. Jasmina laughed a cold laugh and turned from the window picking up her phone. “Agent Jerome, Corbier. He’s coming.” She hung up and crossed to the desk table where she had most of her work. Jasmina had set up a base on the ship and had never been bothered for t east fifteen years. Of course, she was just waiting for this day. She circled around the desk, picking up her cardigan from the swivel desk chair and draped it over her shoulders. She looked at herself in the computer screen and smiled, her dark red lips curling into an unsettling feature. Her high heels set her up three inches taller and she fixed her hair. Her grey dress with big black buttons was made from cotton. She had matching shoes. She turned and walked out of the room, her shoulders held back.

The young man entered the vessels room, a huge ballroom centred exactly in the middle of the ship. He looked around to the bar, then to the floor and finally across to where a woman in a grey cotton dress sat, legs crossed. “I’ve been expecting you.”
    The hooded man laughed deeply. “No you haven’t.” His voice sounded mechanical.

     The woman got up and crossed the room until she got to the bar. She looked back and smiled. “Would you like a drink?”  The man held his hands up in reply. “Fair enough,” Jasmina said.

 The man was unsettled by her. He was scared almost. He looked up again as she continued talking. “See, I’ve never been interrupted in all my years here. Either, you are a very good spy or just a simple fool who thought it would be fun to come exploring.”

Again, the man laughed. “You have me well studied, don’t you?” She nodded, smiling. “But not that well studied.” He turned to walk back out and walked into a massive brute of a man. He was at least seven foot tall and had long wild hair. He looked as if he were some giant. Beside the brute there stood a smaller man, around six foot who had a gun. His short hair was close shaved to his head and he had a goatee. They both smiled.

 The hooded man laughed again. “Nice.” His next movement was a blur. He snapped his hand up, grabbing the gun and pulled hard on it, releasing the safety trigger then pulled down again and the gun shot: hitting the massive giant in the leg. The hooded man punched the smaller man hard then spun, snapping his leg up to kick the now crouched giant. His foot connected with his face and the giant fell, cracking the floorboards. The hooded man pulled a knife and threw it at the woman across the ballroom. It flew into the wood just above her head.  It wavered back and forth, until finally coming to a still. The woman smiled at him.

 “Tut-tut. Now, that’s a bit mean.”

  “No you’re mean, trying to out number me. Well guess again, Jasmina.” Jasmina gasped, and then smiled.

“Look behind you.” The hooded man spun and halfway, just after seeing that the giant was back up, he was hit hard in the head with the gun. “As I said, I’ve been expecting you Mr Ryder.”

The hood fell as the man did- or boy- as the hood fell, it revealed that person hidden was not a man but a boy.  He had thick blond hair and blue eyes, just placed on top of high cheekbones.  A small white box fell from where the hood was- a voice modulator. The woman smirked, just as a tall olive skinned boy entered the room, holding a metal staff.