Add-a-paragraph, Short Story in the works Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

OK - lets' start a story challenge here....

Add to the story below (this really WILL be a challenge) one paragraph or more at a time. Please make sure you copy the previous posts and then ADD your own to it. Also, be sure to follow the elements of the short story like setting, character and purpose as we go...along together..tiling the Mosaic.

Thanks and good luck! :)

I'll start this one with:

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all Living and Dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

[Cleo_Serapis]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all Living and Dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at ALL costs. However, even the best kept secrets sometimes find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There is too much at stake to even think about the consequences that this could bring to ‘New World’ and to the Human Race.

[Terocon101]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets sometimes find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There is too much at stake to even think about the consequences that this could bring to ‘New World’ and to the Human Race.

"For Gods sake be careful with that", screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn, if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore; with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck, the journey to New World would take another two hours. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead, now the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility, "What the hell was it anyway?" he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

[Dee]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets sometimes find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There is too much at stake to even think about the consequences that this could bring to ‘New World’ and to the Human Race.

"For Gods sake! Be careful with that," screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn, if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you!" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore, with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck; the journey to New World would take another two. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead; the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility, "What the hell was it anyway?" he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

The wind shifted, a weak straight-line smacked Densmore, lifting the front edge of his expensive toupee. A glossy-nailed hand streaked up and pressed it back into place. Across the street, a black car revved its engine. The blond at the wheel threw her head back in laughter at the primping, prancing man who held his hair in place. She turned the steering wheel, smoothly bringing her vehicle onto the street and blowing Densmore a pouty kiss as she went by. He pressed his hair even harder, his fingertips turning white. Even in the cloudy darkness of the night, you could see his face was red.

[Cleo_Serapis]

What a fabulous start Terry and Dee!

Terry, what does CERN stand for?

Here's my meager addition below...
~Cleo


The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets often find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There was too much at stake to think about the consequences this could bring to ‘New World’ and the Human Race.

"For Gods sake! Be careful with that," screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn; if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you!" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore, with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck; the journey to New World would take another two. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead; the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility. What the hell was it anyway? he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

The wind shifted, a weak straight-line smacked Densmore, lifting the front edge of his expensive toupee. A glossy-nailed hand streaked up and pressed it back into place. Across the street, a black car revved its engine. The blond at the wheel threw her head back in laughter at the primping, prancing man who held his hair in place. She turned the steering wheel, smoothly bringing her vehicle onto the street and blowing Densmore a pouty kiss as she went by. He pressed his hair even harder, his fingertips turning white. Even in the cloudy darkness of the night, you could see his face was red.

Densmore's neck hairs suddenly perked up as if an arctic blast had just hit him squarely in the face, despite his flushing pink tone. “Yeah, baby! Here’s a kiss right back at ya.” He met her passing gaze with his own, gyrated his crotch in her direction and then flipped the bird. Why do I keep seeing her everywhere I turn? He mumbled under his fetid Starbuck’s latte breath, the only remnant of warmth cycling through his frigid bones. Surely, she was a figment of his hellfire heydays from decades too far past to recall with any certainty? Riding the surges toward an impending storm drain, his empty cup floated away, as did his memory of her.

[Terocon101]

Hi Lori,

Well I read about CERN in a Dan Brown book called Angels and Demons, I think it's a prequel/Part of series of The Da Vinci Code.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CERN


I wondered if I could add another paragraph??

...or wait for more volunteers???


.

[Cleo_Serapis]

I KNEW it was from a Dan Brown novel, LOL - but I couldn't put my finger on it. I read the book too, in my journey of reading his various novels. I still haven't read The Da Vinci Code but saw the movie. I thought CERN was from his book called DIGITAL FORTRESS? It was Angels and Demons (BYW, I think that book would make for a much more interesting movie that Da Vinci Code was - I heard they were actually planning to put it to film too. I couldn't stand Deception Point, after 2 chapters I gave up - it was poor. Peter whipped through it in one sitting I think but I just couldn't get into it for some reason - Loved Angels and Demons the most thus far of his work.


By all means, please go ahead and post away when the muse tickles, scratch it!

~Cleo

[Terocon101]

Yeah angels and demons was a really good story, great twist at the end, and the whole anti-matter: science theory/fact/fantasy bit was intriguing. Although the bit with the helicopter (at the end) was a bit out-there.

Umm, Digital Fortress was ok to pass the time but a little forgettable.

Will do on another paragraph...what the hell is in the box????

.

[Terocon101]

PS. Totally agree with you on Angels and Demons film, that would be great. Vatican co-operation would be unlikely though, LOL.

PPS. I'm pretty sure Cern was in angels and demons.

Thanks Lori.

.

[Larry]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets often find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There was too much at stake to think about the consequences this could bring to ‘New World’ and the Human Race.

"For Gods sake! Be careful with that," screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn; if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you!" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore, with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck; the journey to New World would take another two. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead; the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility. What the hell was it anyway? he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

The wind shifted, a weak straight-line smacked Densmore, lifting the front edge of his expensive toupee. A glossy-nailed hand streaked up and pressed it back into place. Across the street, a black car revved its engine. The blond at the wheel threw her head back in laughter at the primping, prancing man who held his hair in place. She turned the steering wheel, smoothly bringing her vehicle onto the street and blowing Densmore a pouty kiss as she went by. He pressed his hair even harder, his fingertips turning white. Even in the cloudy darkness of the night, you could see his face was red.

Densmore's neck hairs suddenly perked up as if an arctic blast had just hit him squarely in the face, despite his flushing pink tone. “Yeah, baby! Here’s a kiss right back at ya.” He met her passing gaze with his own, gyrated his crotch in her direction and then flipped the bird. Why do I keep seeing her everywhere I turn? He mumbled under his fetid Starbuck’s latte breath, the only remnant of warmth cycling through his frigid bones. Surely, she was a figment of his hellfire heydays from decades too far past to recall with any certainty? Riding the surges toward an impending storm drain, his empty cup floated away, as did his memory of her.

Climbing into the cab of the delivery van, which reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, Densmore eased his ample, Armani covered butt onto the cold vinyl seat as the howling wind was joined by sheets of rain nearly blotting out any sight of the huge armored sedans escorting them back to New World. “Damn”, he thought! The trip would be much nicer if he were behind the wheel of his Rolls setting on soft leather instead of this sewer of a cab, but Metteur had insisted he ride with the cargo. "Why in hell did it have to be the middle of the night, through driving rain; and why did the crate, filled with who knew what, have to be shipped to some God forsaken airport in the suburbs where, it seemed, that damn blonde had been waiting for him," Densmore thought in sullen, silent rage.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Lol! Ohh excellent!

This is really taking shape.

Larry, thanks for continuing my own impression of Mr. Densmore - a rich bastard, LOL! I'll be back!

~Cleo

[Larry]

Hi Cleo,

Thanks for the feedback. It's been a long time since I ventured into this sort of community story writing. It's fun to see where the story is going. What I got from reading your part was that Densmore was, more than anything, a pompous ass filled with self importance.
Oh, if you are able, as an administrator; you might edit, starting with Terocon101's first entry. Your "ebony horizon" got "bony" somehow. I fixed it on mine when I couldn't figure out what a bony horizon was until I went back and read your first entry.
May I contribute more?

Larry

[Cleo_Serapis]

Thanks Larry - I went back and edited them (PHEW)!

Sure, absolutely, please continue if you have more ideas to continue the story.

TTYL
~Cleo

[Larry]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets often find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There was too much at stake to think about the consequences this could bring to ‘New World’ and the Human Race.

"For Gods sake! Be careful with that," screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn; if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you!" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore, with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck; the journey to New World would take another two. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead; the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility. What the hell was it anyway? he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

The wind shifted, a weak straight-line smacked Densmore, lifting the front edge of his expensive toupee. A glossy-nailed hand streaked up and pressed it back into place. Across the street, a black car revved its engine. The blond at the wheel threw her head back in laughter at the primping, prancing man who held his hair in place. She turned the steering wheel, smoothly bringing her vehicle onto the street and blowing Densmore a pouty kiss as she went by. He pressed his hair even harder, his fingertips turning white. Even in the cloudy darkness of the night, you could see his face was red.

Densmore's neck hairs suddenly perked up as if an arctic blast had just hit him squarely in the face, despite his flushing pink tone. “Yeah, baby! Here’s a kiss right back at ya.” He met her passing gaze with his own, gyrated his crotch in her direction and then flipped the bird. Why do I keep seeing her everywhere I turn? He mumbled under his fetid Starbuck’s latte breath, the only remnant of warmth cycling through his frigid bones. Surely, she was a figment of his hellfire heydays from decades too far past to recall with any certainty? Riding the surges toward an impending storm drain, his empty cup floated away, as did his memory of her.

Climbing into the cab of the delivery van, which reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, Densmore eased his ample, Armani covered butt onto the cold vinyl seat as the howling wind was joined by sheets of rain nearly blotting out any sight of the hugh armored sedans escorting them back to New World. “Damn”, he thought! The trip would be much nicer if he were behind the wheel of his Rolls setting on soft leather instead of this sewer of a cab, but Metteur had insisted he ride with the cargo. "Why in hell did it have to be the middle of the night, through driving rain; and why did the crate, filled with who knew what, have to be shipped to some God forsaken airport in the suburbs where, it seemed, that damn blonde had been waiting for him," Densmore thought in sullen, silent rage.

The small convoy had been on the road for a few miles when Densmore cringed in disgust as the big burley driver of the van reached into his shirt pocket to pull out a pack of Picayune cigarettes and lit one up, breathing a heavy sigh of satisfaction after the first puff. “Put that damn thing out”, he said to the driver; “I’ll report this incident to your superiors!” The driver, with a smug look on his face, turned to Densmore and sneered, “I don’t have any! I own the transport company, the van you’re sitting in, the escorts in front of us and all the boys in them security outfits work for me! New Life contracted me to haul your damn crate, not to take any smart-mouthed lip from some flunky. If you don’t like my smoke, open a window and shut up or I’ll stop this van and let you ride in the back with your cargo.” The rain was still coming down at a blinding slant and the storm seemed to have gained strength since their departure from the airport so, with a sheepish look on his face, hiding his impotent rage, Densmore shut up, stared at the driving rain, and flinched at each flash of lightening. The glare of headlights caught the corner of Densmore’s eyes from a side street moments before the big tractor-trailer rig hit the front of the van, spinning it out of control. Densmore, shaken up by the crash, saw what seemed like twenty or so men emerge from the darkness carrying automatic weapons and there, in the middle of it all was that damn blonde again, standing on the street corner like she was directing traffic. Apparently, the escort drivers had seen the same professional precision of the ambush and sped off into the night. Belatedly, after seeing the van’s driver with his hands high above his head, and the little red lights from the laser sights centered on his and the driver’s chest, Densmore followed suit. Within ten minutes, New World’s mysterious crate was busted open right before his eyes and its contents were loaded into the back of the tractor-trailer. Under the headlights, as the thieves were carrying something that looked like a stainless steel coffin past the cab of the van, Densmore saw the acronym C.E.R.N. spelled out. "What was a Criminal Examination, Retention and Nullification Module 1A and who the hell was that blonde?", Densmore thought as the taillights of the big rig disappeared into the blackness, followed by the black sedan with the blonde's arm out the window, returning his gesture from earlier that night.

[Larry]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets often find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There was too much at stake to think about the consequences this could bring to ‘New World’ and the Human Race.

"For Gods sake! Be careful with that," screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn; if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you!" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore, with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck; the journey to New World would take another two. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead; the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility. What the hell was it anyway? he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

The wind shifted, a weak straight-line smacked Densmore, lifting the front edge of his expensive toupee. A glossy-nailed hand streaked up and pressed it back into place. Across the street, a black car revved its engine. The blond at the wheel threw her head back in laughter at the primping, prancing man who held his hair in place. She turned the steering wheel, smoothly bringing her vehicle onto the street and blowing Densmore a pouty kiss as she went by. He pressed his hair even harder, his fingertips turning white. Even in the cloudy darkness of the night, you could see his face was red.

Densmore's neck hairs suddenly perked up as if an arctic blast had just hit him squarely in the face, despite his flushing pink tone. “Yeah, baby! Here’s a kiss right back at ya.” He met her passing gaze with his own, gyrated his crotch in her direction and then flipped the bird. Why do I keep seeing her everywhere I turn? He mumbled under his fetid Starbuck’s latte breath, the only remnant of warmth cycling through his frigid bones. Surely, she was a figment of his hellfire heydays from decades too far past to recall with any certainty? Riding the surges toward an impending storm drain, his empty cup floated away, as did his memory of her.

Climbing into the cab of the delivery van, which reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, Densmore eased his ample, Armani covered butt onto the cold vinyl seat as the howling wind was joined by sheets of rain nearly blotting out any sight of the huge armored sedans escorting them back to New World. “Damn”, he thought! The trip would be much nicer if he were behind the wheel of his Rolls setting on soft leather instead of this sewer of a cab, but Metteur had insisted he ride with the cargo. Why in hell did it have to be the middle of the night, through driving rain; and why did the crate have to be shipped to some God forsaken airport in the suburbs where, it seemed, that damn blonde had been waiting for him.

The small convoy had been on the road for a few miles when Densmore cringed in disgust as the big burley driver of the van reached into his shirt pocket to pull out a pack of Picayune cigarettes and lit one up, breathing a heavy sigh of satisfaction after the first puff. “Put that damn thing out”, he said to the driver; “I’ll report this incident to your superiors!” The driver, with a smug look on his face, turned to Densmore and sneered, “I don’t have any! I own the transport company, the van you’re sitting in, the escorts in front of us and all the boys in them security outfits work for me! New World contracted me to haul your damn crate, not to take any smart-mouthed lip from some flunky. If you don’t like my smoke, open a window and shut up or I’ll stop this van and let you ride in the back with your cargo.” The rain was still coming down at a blinding slant and the storm seemed to have gained strength since their departure from the airport so, with a sheepish look on his face, hiding his impotent rage, Densmore shut up, stared at the driving rain, and flinched at each flash of lightening.

The glare of headlights caught the corner of Densmore’s eyes from a side street moments before the big tractor-trailer rig hit the front of the van, spinning it out of control. Densmore, shaken up by the crash, saw what seemed like twenty or so men emerge from the darkness carrying automatic weapons and there, in the middle of it all was that damn blonde again, standing on the street corner like she was directing traffic. Apparently, the escort drivers had seen the same professional precision of the ambush and sped off into the night. Belatedly, after seeing the van’s driver with his hands high above his head, and the little red lights from the laser sights centered on his and the driver’s chest, Densmore followed suit. Ten minutes later, New World’s mysterious crate was busted open right before his eyes and its contents were loaded into the back of the tractor-trailer. Under the headlights, as the thieves were carrying something that looked like a stainless steel coffin past the cab of the van, Densmore saw the acronym C.E.R.N. spelled out. "What was a Criminal Examination, Retention and Nullification Module 1A and who the hell was that blonde?", Densmore thought, as the taillights of the big rig disappeared into the blackness, followed by the black sedan with the blonde's arm out the window, returning his gesture from earlier that night.

The remainder of the trip back to New World in the crippled van was a living nightmare for Densmore. Thoughts raced through his head about the ambush, the lost cargo, the damn blonde and how Director Metteur would react to the bad news. Through the weakening storm, he saw the top stories of the imposing tower of New World draped in black clouds which matched his mood and, he thought, his impending meeting with the director. Sure enough, there was Metteur and a contingent of armed guards waiting on the delivery dock as they drove up and parked. The menacing scowl on the director's face was heightened by the lights of the dock which were still swaying in the wind. Metteur knew something was wrong when he saw the smashed front end of the van and his apprehension grew when they did not back into the dock to deliver his precious cargo.

[Cleo_Serapis]

This is really getting interesting - well done Larry - the drama is really intense and I look forward to writing and reading more!

Cheers
~Lori

[Terocon101]

The frigid, ebony horizon that seldom covered the path of light and hope had been rubbed out once again this warring night. The fearless, invading blue moon freed itself from charcoal clouds that held it captive. While dancing above all living and dead, it rejoiced, beckoning to all who had once lost their way. A storm was coming, and it cared not what havoc it would bring.

Caught by surprise, the ‘New World’ sign flailed incessantly in the gale force wind just above the entrance to corporate headquarters. Only a select few could access the computerized security program that allowed entrance, and even fewer actually contributed to the work the company produced. There were infallible reasons for this. Power and technology of this magnitude had to be kept under wraps at all costs. However, even the best kept secrets often find their way to the public at large. For New World, this was simply not an option. There was too much at stake to think about the consequences this could bring to ‘New World’ and the Human Race.

"For Gods sake! Be careful with that," screamed assistant director of operations Ray Densmore. "That piece of equipment is worth more than you'll ever earn; if it falls you better make damn sure it lands on you!" he shouted at the delivery operatives who had accompanied their cargo from the experimental research laboratory C.E.R.N in Switzerland. Densmore, with his five thousand dollar Armani suit and his manicured nails was not accustomed to overseeing deliveries at airports, but director Metteur had insisted he take charge of this one. Densmore had no idea what was in this massive aluminum crate, which was about the same size as two telephone boxes and weighed at least three tons but as he looked around at the substantial security detail armed with Uzis, he assumed it was very valuable. It had taken the best part of an hour to load the crate onto the truck; the journey to New World would take another two. Densmore almost jumped out of his skin as a crack of thunder was unleashed overhead; the weather was turning for the worse. He wouldn't feel at ease until they had this damned crate safely inside the New World facility. What the hell was it anyway? he wondered as the truck and its escort pulled away.

The wind shifted, a weak straight-line smacked Densmore, lifting the front edge of his expensive toupee. A glossy-nailed hand streaked up and pressed it back into place. Across the street, a black car revved its engine. The blond at the wheel threw her head back in laughter at the primping, prancing man who held his hair in place. She turned the steering wheel, smoothly bringing her vehicle onto the street and blowing Densmore a pouty kiss as she went by. He pressed his hair even harder, his fingertips turning white. Even in the cloudy darkness of the night, you could see his face was red.

Densmore's neck hairs suddenly perked up as if an arctic blast had just hit him squarely in the face, despite his flushing pink tone. “Yeah, baby! Here’s a kiss right back at ya.” He met her passing gaze with his own, gyrated his crotch in her direction and then flipped the bird. Why do I keep seeing her everywhere I turn? He mumbled under his fetid Starbuck’s latte breath, the only remnant of warmth cycling through his frigid bones. Surely, she was a figment of his hellfire heydays from decades too far past to recall with any certainty? Riding the surges toward an impending storm drain, his empty cup floated away, as did his memory of her.

Climbing into the cab of the delivery van, which reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, Densmore eased his ample, Armani covered butt onto the cold vinyl seat as the howling wind was joined by sheets of rain nearly blotting out any sight of the huge armored sedans escorting them back to New World. “Damn”, he thought! The trip would be much nicer if he were behind the wheel of his Rolls setting on soft leather instead of this sewer of a cab, but Metteur had insisted he ride with the cargo. Why in hell did it have to be the middle of the night, through driving rain; and why did the crate have to be shipped to some God forsaken airport in the suburbs where, it seemed, that damn blonde had been waiting for him.

The small convoy had been on the road for a few miles when Densmore cringed in disgust as the big burley driver of the van reached into his shirt pocket to pull out a pack of Picayune cigarettes and lit one up, breathing a heavy sigh of satisfaction after the first puff. “Put that damn thing out”, he said to the driver; “I’ll report this incident to your superiors!” The driver, with a smug look on his face, turned to Densmore and sneered, “I don’t have any! I own the transport company, the van you’re sitting in, the escorts in front of us and all the boys in them security outfits work for me! New World contracted me to haul your damn crate, not to take any smart-mouthed lip from some flunky. If you don’t like my smoke, open a window and shut up or I’ll stop this van and let you ride in the back with your cargo.” The rain was still coming down at a blinding slant and the storm seemed to have gained strength since their departure from the airport so, with a sheepish look on his face, hiding his impotent rage, Densmore shut up, stared at the driving rain, and flinched at each flash of lightening.

The glare of headlights caught the corner of Densmore’s eyes from a side street moments before the big tractor-trailer rig hit the front of the van, spinning it out of control. Densmore, shaken up by the crash, saw what seemed like twenty or so men emerge from the darkness carrying automatic weapons and there, in the middle of it all was that damn blonde again, standing on the street corner like she was directing traffic. Apparently, the escort drivers had seen the same professional precision of the ambush and sped off into the night. Belatedly, after seeing the van’s driver with his hands high above his head, and the little red lights from the laser sights centered on his and the driver’s chest, Densmore followed suit. Ten minutes later, New World’s mysterious crate was busted open right before his eyes and its contents were loaded into the back of the tractor-trailer. Under the headlights, as the thieves were carrying something that looked like a stainless steel coffin past the cab of the van, Densmore saw the acronym C.E.R.N. spelled out. What was a Criminal Examination, Retention and Nullification Module 1A and who the hell was that blonde?", Densmore thought, as the taillights of the big rig disappeared into the blackness, followed by the black sedan with the blonde's arm out the window, returning his gesture from earlier that night.

The remainder of the trip back to New World in the crippled van was a living nightmare for Densmore. Thoughts raced through his head about the ambush, the lost cargo, the damn blonde and how Director Metteur would react to the bad news. Through the weakening storm, he saw the top stories of the imposing tower of New World draped in black clouds which matched his mood and, he thought, his impending meeting with the director. Sure enough, there was Metteur and a contingent of armed guards waiting on the delivery dock as they drove up and parked. The menacing scowl on the director's face was heightened by the lights of the dock which were still swaying in the wind. Metteur knew something was wrong when he saw the smashed front end of the van and his apprehension grew when they did not back into the dock to deliver his precious cargo.

Don Sutherland sits in the shade outside a small Parisienne cafe sipping a beer and waiting for his wife to return from her shopping trip. The display on the billboard-size digital thermometer on the building across the street says it's 12:40 pm and 39 degrees Celsius. Don raises an eyebrow as a waiter approaches him with a telephone, he is surprised when the voice on the phone is a man's and not his wife's.

Hello

"Hey Don, its Sal..."

Are you kidding? Look...I'm on my honeymoon, the first time in five years me and Severine have had some time together and you...

"Don, I'm sorry, listen, it's Morrison, we think he's back. In fact, I'm sure he is, but nothing's official yet. I thought you'd want to know.

Jesus!!...Get me a flight out of here in the next hour, I'm coming back.

"The jet's already fueled and waiting for you, but your not coming back, your going to Switzerland"

Fine... Damn it, Sev wont be happy, are you sure it's him?

"It's got all the trademarks, you did say, no matter what the hour, if he ever showed up again, to call you, and I'm certain it's him."

Thanks, you did the right thing Sal, who else are you sending?








(another phone call, Sal calls Don's old partner (a female , sexual tension, mutual dislike, trying to put all that behind her, cant say no)



I'll be back!!!!




.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Cool Terry!

I've now started a WORD document and am copying in this entire story thus far, so I can re-read it and then add to it (at some point) when time finds me!

Have a wonderful day!
~Cleo

[Larry]

Lori,
Is there any way to add a forgotten addendum to Terry's last post which was left out of my last post? I have edited my post but doubt I would be able to edit Terry's. The addendum reads:

", Densmore thought, as the taillights of the big rig disappeared into the blackness, followed by the black sedan with the blonde's arm out the window, returning his gesture from earlier that night.

Thanks
Larry

[Cleo_Serapis]

Sure, all set.