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discoveredinaljSo, another deadline has come and gone... I'll leave it to Douglas Adams, who says it best: "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." (Seriously, he is my spirit animal.) Also seriously, I hope this isn't _too_ far past the deadline...
A Foggy Night in London-Town
One evening, at an hour when most people were tucked up in the safety and warmth of their houses, a pair of special men was out and about, working to keep those people and houses safe and warm, perhaps even smelling, ever so faintly, of roses and lavender.
Their opponents this night were the usual suspects, two members of the seedy underbelly of England’s capital, who had made enough of an ominous noise that the finest of CI5 were close on their tail. Perhaps too close, given that what had started out as a simple mission to intercept and apprehend was now threatening to become much more. They’d gotten separated, each taking a man to track, and the laneways and alleys on the edge of the industrial park had simply swallowed them up.
London’s late-autumn temperature and damp had combined to produce as dense a fog as either man had seen in a good while. This fog diffused both light and sound… under its influence the sharp prisms around the street lamps turned soft and mild, and the omnipresent roar of the city was tempered, becoming waves of muffled sound where noises near and far merged together in quiet reverberation. It was deceptively beautiful, in its own menacing fashion.
The fog, however, was an equal-opportunity presence, at once both ally and foe. While it allowed Bodie the extra benefit of not having to duck quite so deeply into the cover of the doorways and alcoves that dotted the laneway, it also provided the same good fortune to the person ahead of him. Visibility was almost nonexistent, limiting the distance he could see to a mere few yards at best, and the glimpse he’d gotten of the figure showed no more than a dark outline treading carefully through the alley in a similar manner to his own.
Doyle’s last, whispered message on the RT had spoken of a warehouse with two yellow floodlights at its doors; he’d reported his target had entered the building, and then contact had abruptly ceased.
Resisting the urge to shout his partner’s name and run blindly through the night, Bodie maintained his steady pace following the man in front of him, feeling certain that he, too, was aiming for that warehouse. They’d first encountered the men together, so it was a logical guess that they would end up in the same place. Or so he hoped.
And then, ahead in the murkiness, he saw that same pair of floodlights, and heard a muffled snick of a latch closing. Bodie crept forward, moving to the edge of the laneway; he drew his weapon, but his senses were still hampered by the swirling fog. Crossing the gap of the warehouse courtyard quickly, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath, eyes never leaving the doorway beside him. A quick mental countdown steadied him, then his hand pulled the sliding door open in a fast, smooth motion. Braced in the opening, gun held up and ready to fire, Bodie came face to face with… his partner, in an identical, mirror stance.
As one they lifted their weapons to point upwards, away from danger; as one they breathed a quick expulsion of air, a release of tension that was as familiar to them as the act of breathing itself. A long moment stretched as their gazes locked and held in a timeless, silent communication.
At length, Doyle shouldered his gun, settling it firmly into his shoulder holster and allowing his jacket to swing down to cover it. “Oi, slowpoke,” he said, shifting to the side to grant his partner full access to the warehouse. “What took you so long? Stopping to admire the scenery, were we?"
Bodie glanced beyond Doyle to see their two targets seated on the floor, arms wrapped around a support pole with a pair of handcuffs joining them at the wrist. He waggled his fingers at them and grinned at their disgruntled expressions. “Come on, mate,” he said, slinging an arm over his partner’s shoulder and steering him out the door. “Let’s go take a stroll in the fog. You want scenery? I’ll show you some scenery…”
End
Title: A Foggy Night in London-Town
Author: ubicaritas
Archive to ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: Just taking the lads out to play. No copyright infringement intended.
A Foggy Night in London-Town
One evening, at an hour when most people were tucked up in the safety and warmth of their houses, a pair of special men was out and about, working to keep those people and houses safe and warm, perhaps even smelling, ever so faintly, of roses and lavender.
Their opponents this night were the usual suspects, two members of the seedy underbelly of England’s capital, who had made enough of an ominous noise that the finest of CI5 were close on their tail. Perhaps too close, given that what had started out as a simple mission to intercept and apprehend was now threatening to become much more. They’d gotten separated, each taking a man to track, and the laneways and alleys on the edge of the industrial park had simply swallowed them up.
London’s late-autumn temperature and damp had combined to produce as dense a fog as either man had seen in a good while. This fog diffused both light and sound… under its influence the sharp prisms around the street lamps turned soft and mild, and the omnipresent roar of the city was tempered, becoming waves of muffled sound where noises near and far merged together in quiet reverberation. It was deceptively beautiful, in its own menacing fashion.
The fog, however, was an equal-opportunity presence, at once both ally and foe. While it allowed Bodie the extra benefit of not having to duck quite so deeply into the cover of the doorways and alcoves that dotted the laneway, it also provided the same good fortune to the person ahead of him. Visibility was almost nonexistent, limiting the distance he could see to a mere few yards at best, and the glimpse he’d gotten of the figure showed no more than a dark outline treading carefully through the alley in a similar manner to his own.
Doyle’s last, whispered message on the RT had spoken of a warehouse with two yellow floodlights at its doors; he’d reported his target had entered the building, and then contact had abruptly ceased.
Resisting the urge to shout his partner’s name and run blindly through the night, Bodie maintained his steady pace following the man in front of him, feeling certain that he, too, was aiming for that warehouse. They’d first encountered the men together, so it was a logical guess that they would end up in the same place. Or so he hoped.
And then, ahead in the murkiness, he saw that same pair of floodlights, and heard a muffled snick of a latch closing. Bodie crept forward, moving to the edge of the laneway; he drew his weapon, but his senses were still hampered by the swirling fog. Crossing the gap of the warehouse courtyard quickly, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath, eyes never leaving the doorway beside him. A quick mental countdown steadied him, then his hand pulled the sliding door open in a fast, smooth motion. Braced in the opening, gun held up and ready to fire, Bodie came face to face with… his partner, in an identical, mirror stance.
As one they lifted their weapons to point upwards, away from danger; as one they breathed a quick expulsion of air, a release of tension that was as familiar to them as the act of breathing itself. A long moment stretched as their gazes locked and held in a timeless, silent communication.
At length, Doyle shouldered his gun, settling it firmly into his shoulder holster and allowing his jacket to swing down to cover it. “Oi, slowpoke,” he said, shifting to the side to grant his partner full access to the warehouse. “What took you so long? Stopping to admire the scenery, were we?"
Bodie glanced beyond Doyle to see their two targets seated on the floor, arms wrapped around a support pole with a pair of handcuffs joining them at the wrist. He waggled his fingers at them and grinned at their disgruntled expressions. “Come on, mate,” he said, slinging an arm over his partner’s shoulder and steering him out the door. “Let’s go take a stroll in the fog. You want scenery? I’ll show you some scenery…”
End
Title: A Foggy Night in London-Town
Author: ubicaritas
Archive to ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: Just taking the lads out to play. No copyright infringement intended.
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Date: 2019-02-01 05:58 pm (UTC)(And no worries about the timing - I don't think it was midnight in Pago-Pago when you posted, and I never close a challenge before everyone in every timezone has had a chance! *g*)
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Date: 2019-02-02 06:33 pm (UTC)I like making Bodie worry, he does it so well. :)
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Date: 2019-02-01 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-02 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-01 08:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-02 06:47 pm (UTC)Thanks.
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Date: 2019-02-02 04:57 am (UTC)Oh I love this.
Beautiful story.
Thank you
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Date: 2019-02-02 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-02 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-02 06:45 pm (UTC)