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08-19-2011, 05:55 PM | #131 |
IG 4 LIFE
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: The last place you would think
Posts: 17,671
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More, more, more,More, more, more,More, more, more,More, more, more,More, more, more,More, more, more,More, more,
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08-19-2011, 06:17 PM | #132 |
ha!
Join Date: Jul 2011
Location: Earth?
Posts: 3,448
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Quote:
It was early morning and a steady rain was drumming against the window of the house in the quiet D.C. suburb near Alexandria. The house was bathed in shades of gray, as was the man who lay unmoving, yet awake beneath the sheets of the bed. He had not shaved in the last two days and his eyes were blood shot from lack of sleep that didn’t come from half a bottle of Johnny Walker.
Today was the funeral at Arlington. Full military regalia, a twenty-one gun salute and the haunting melody of taps echoing amid the gravestones was yet to come. Now, the scent of perfume from the untouched pillow next to him brought upon a rush of memories that sent a shudder through his entire body. Hours spent laying with her head on his chest on lazy Sunday mornings, the passionate love-making after returning home from long assignments or the gentle caress before falling asleep all played across his scotch addled brain. Groaning, he wiped his eyes as if to wipe away the images that his brain tortured him with. In truth, it was also to wipe away the tears that seemed well up when he remembered her. He willed himself to move, and his body reluctantly followed orders, just like a good solder. Her family was coming today. Damn, if that wasn't going to be hard. Sitting at the edge of the bed he reached for the half empty glass of scotch on the nightstand, the ice cubes having long melted away. The glass clinked against the barrel of the well-worn Army issue Beretta. The hammer was still cocked back from the night before and even thought it was unseen he knew there was a round chambered. It has been a particularly bad night. He swallowed the piss-warm scotch with purpose. More bad nights would come. Reaching back he touched his fingertips to her pillow .....(end) ________________________________________ *Takes place three days after Lady Jaye's death* well written, hard to get behind though knew a guy who blew off half his jaw trying to kill himself when i was in the army.so when i here stories like this all i can think of is suicide prevention class...sorry i have to say it dont kill yourself. now my conscience is clear.fyi he didnt die he got a new jaw a new duty station and hopefully some help |
08-19-2011, 08:45 PM | #133 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
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Quote:
well written, hard to get behind though knew a guy who blew off half his jaw trying to kill himself when i was in the army.so when i here stories like this all i can think of is suicide prevention class...sorry i have to say it dont kill yourself. now my conscience is clear.fyi he didnt die he got a new jaw a new duty station and hopefully some help
This is definately Flint right after Lady Jayes death, not the writers feelings on life or death. But I take it as high praise that I brought on a little emotion. |
08-19-2011, 08:47 PM | #134 |
disgruntled goat
Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: NYS- Finger Lakes
Posts: 2,110
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great to see some new work from you. keep'em coming!
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08-19-2011, 09:39 PM | #135 |
IG 4 LIFE
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: The last place you would think
Posts: 17,671
|
Quote:
well written, hard to get behind though knew a guy who blew off half his jaw trying to kill himself when i was in the army.so when i here stories like this all i can think of is suicide prevention class...sorry i have to say it dont kill yourself. now my conscience is clear.fyi he didnt die he got a new jaw a new duty station and hopefully some help
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08-19-2011, 10:42 PM | #136 |
Cobra Chef
Join Date: Dec 2008
Location: s.c.
Posts: 303
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As always good stuff Flint...MORE Please.
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08-20-2011, 02:35 AM | #137 |
Viper of Death
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: salina kansas
Posts: 584
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Quote:
“I half expected you to be swilling Budweiser, but 18 year old Laphroaig…I find myself mildly impressed”
Flint regarded at her over the rim of his glass without expression. “Actually, us good ‘ol boys from Kansas drink PBR from a can, but I don’t feel like slumming at the moment” “How droll, dear Flint” She was perched atop a chair at their high topped table which he had chosen for its adequate view of the front door, and ease of exit through the kitchen if became necessary. She was dressed as casual as, he figured, she knew how. Impossibly tight black leather pants, high heeled, knee high boots and low-cut top that looks as if it came straight out of the lingerie section. She had discarded her rain coat on the seat next to her and made no attempt to retrieve her pistol from the pocket. In the dim light of the bar Flint noticed that a silver pendant hung around her neck, a Cobra insignia. “Christ, you don’t even attempt to hide it, do you?” She smiled dismissively and plucked the stuffed olive from her glass and popped it in her mouth. She pouted slightly at the empty glass. “Why ever would I hide my affiliations? You don’t seemed burdened by yours.” She reached over and lightly touched the Ranger pin affixed to his uniform. She offered a smile that looked decidedly evil. “How is that affiliation working out for you at the moment? A dead wife, and a Warrant Officers salary. Surely a man like you is capable of so much more fulfilling endeavors.” She leaned towards him , her fingertips brushing over her pendant which hung low into her ample cleavage. She played the role of power broker very well. Flint locked his eyes with hers. “Baroness……spare me the recruiting rhetoric. I’m not some mal-adjusted kid with delusions of grandeur who you can convince to join up. If you try that bullshit with me again I’ll shoot you where you sit.” From under the table came the distinct double click of a Beretta's hammer being drawn back. The barman cleared his throat as he neared the table to bring a fresh round of drinks. The Baroness held Flints intent gaze for a moment more then sat back, crossed her legs and lifted the martini to her lips in regal fashion. Not many woman could enjoy a martini while staring the wrong way down the barrel of a gun. She was not bothered. “ I find that I have fallen out of favor with Cobra, and more specifically my husband. I need your help.” Acutely... us boys from Kansas drank bush lt, natural LT, and bud lt... lol... great story keep it coming... |
08-20-2011, 03:37 AM | #138 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
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10-03-2011, 03:15 PM | #139 |
Banned
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: Liverpool, Pennsylvania
Posts: 12,546
|
Bad dreams
There was the gentle caress of the breeze coming in from the open window. The thin silk sheets that draped her body began to flutter. She pressed her face into the pillow and lay very still. She kept her eyes closed, knowing that when they opened it would no longer be only a bad dream. As long as she kept her eyes closed she was safe. Safe Safe seemed to be a laughable state of being to her. Was she safe in the arms of her husband or had she been safe in the company of Flint? Neither of the two seemed to have worked in her favor considering her current predicament. She squeezed her eyes shut forcefully, but not before the tears escaped. Her captors had held her in the dilapidated stables and she could still taste the rotted straw and manure. More so, she could still taste the sweat of the first two men that Vaughn had sent, and the memory caused her to shudder in disgust. Her martial arts training proved its worth, as she was able to fight them off initially. But as is too often the case, men with a single goal, no matter how perverse, prevail. One of the guardsmen pinned her wrists above her head, the other kneeled down on her thighs causing her to cry out in pain. He began to loosen his belt and once accomplished pushed his trousers down. They laughed cruelly as she arched her back and twisted against their vice-like grips in a futile attempt to break free. Even now, in the comfortable embrace of the bed, she could feel the hot, rancid breath of her attackers on her face. Then the sting of his hand as it struck her in the face, demanding compliance. She went limp, as if with defeat. The man’s hands started to maul her body, squeezing and kneading painfully, intent on only his pleasure and her humiliation. She fought back the urge to resist, she had to bide her time. He became more eager, lifting his weight off her thighs and repositioning himself. She forced a wry smile at him as he fumbled over her body as if he was nothing more than an eager teenager copping his first feel. She felt like vomiting at his every touch. “She loves this?” he exclaimed with bravado to his companion “She’s not even fighting it. She ain't never got it like she's about to." She felt the second guardsman, the one holding her wrists, let go. He began fumbling with his own uniform, the promise of pleasure within his grasp and like most men it made him dimwitted and unaware of what was to come. “Well hurry up, I’m next.” She felt the man atop her quivering in anticipation and to his amazement she reached up and tangled her dirty fingers in his hair. She could feel him relax at her touch. He incorrectly believed her to be giving into her situation. “Bitch, I hope you like it rough.” “Oh, I do.” she whispered to him, her lips brushed his ear as one would a lover; a final word for the dying. She deftly cupped his chin with her left hand and twisted, bringing to bear every ounce of strength her battered body could produce. The man’s neck snapped and his body pinned her to the ground as the last ragged breath shuddered forth from his lungs. She recalled very little from that moment forward. There was the choked cry from the second guardsman as he reeled backwards from the unexpected death of his companion, then his more coherent commands to the other guards positioned outside the stable. She vaguely remembered the dead man being lifted off her naked body. It was more that she remembered the sensation of being able to breathe again than an actual memory. There was a jumble of voices, none more prevalent than the other. Then a pinprick to her thigh, a sedative, she now concluded. Fading into blackness there was the face of Wilder Vaughn. “Take her to the main house before she kills any more of you idiots." She raised her head from the pillow now, dispelling any hope that she was merely lost in the dreamscape. Sunlight filtered in through the open balcony doors warming the sparsely decorated, but clean guestroom. Far be it from Vaughn to reside in the barracks like a common soldier. She noted that they seemed to be cut from the same cloth in that regard at least. Sitting upright, the silk sheet fell away from her body revealing the myriad of bruises that marred her normally perfect skin. Her fingers traced the faint outline of the boot heel that still lingered between her breasts. Greenish black bruises encircled both her wrists, and two more on her thighs confirmed that her recollection of her attack in the stables was accurate. And even still, she could feel the tenderness around her neck from where the Dreadnok’s chain has been used to leash her. She was on her own now. Flint was probably captured, or dead. Her husband mostly likely wished the former for her. Cobra Commander would not give her even a passing thought other than to wish her a traitor’s death. “What am I even protecting anymore?” How easy it would be to give the Red Shadows the decryption codes, to be free of all of this. The Baroness looked at her bruised wrists and shaking hands, knowing full well that if she turned the codes over to Vaughn she was no longer necessary, and would only be considered a liability. “If the situation were reversed I would never allow me to live.” Gathering the sheets around her she moved to the balcony. Her movements seemed clumsy, most likely the side effects of the sedative. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but at least she had not woken up in that horrible stable. Stepping onto the balcony she breathed deeply of the fresh morning air, and had it immediately stolen from her as she gazed at her surroundings. The main house was all that remained of the former coffee plantation. Just across a small manicured lawn began a military complex of shocking size and layout. Newly constructed building of steel and concrete created a maze that was surrounded by an imposing wall topped with concertina wire and guard towers. From her vantage point she could make out well a conceived airstrip capable of large cargo planes and fighters alike. Guards patrolled the fence at regular intervals and divisions of armor were staged in the center of the compound. There were radar installations, anti-aircraft stations and hardened bunkers. Troops moved about the facility in orderly fashion. Helicopters touched down and lifted off from the helipad in the distance. The Red Shadows were preparing for war. The Baroness gripped the railing of the balcony with one hand as she scanned the compound; a sense of dread crawling up her spine. “Just what in the hell do these codes unlock?” Last edited by Flint071; 10-03-2011 at 10:56 PM.. |
11-03-2011, 05:03 PM | #140 |
A CDL holdin' Alley Viper
Join Date: Dec 2010
Location: Menifee Ca.
Posts: 1,888
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Yup I'm in for the long haul.
Great read!!!!! You have incredible talent. . . |
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