Difference between revisions of "Atlantis Rising: Chapter 2"

Revision as of 14:40, 23 March 2010

The second chapter of the series.

Previous Chapter: Atlantis Rising: Chapter 1

Homepage: Atlantis

I've done some switching around of chapters, and a bit of off-line work, which brings this chapter into play.

Also see: Reaper's First Drop

‎‎‎‎23:04 Hours, December 9, 2012 (Military Calendar), a crowded bar, Miami, Florida, USA‎ ‎

Matt carefully aimed down the length of his weapon, all his attention focused on his target. Matt drew his weapon back, tensed, and rammed it home-

The white ball jumped forward with a satisfying crack, hit the solid blue, and sent it spinning towards the corner pocket. The blue ball bounced off the bumper and missed the pocket by an inch.

Jamie laughed. "It's okay, we all suck sometimes." And he stepped forward, aimed at a striped orange ball, drew back. And completely whiffed. The stick ripped through the air and smacked the side of the white ball, sending it spiraling into the side pocket.

"Scratch one!" Scar laughed. "Nice shooting, Jamie."

Matt looked at him. They stared at each other for a second, then Matt said, "Really?"

"Shutup." Jamie said, almost simultaneously, a grin developing on his face.

"Really?" Matt repeated.

"It's okay, Jamie, we all suck sometimes." Holly said. "My shot, right?"

"Yep. Don't whiff." Matt grinned.

"Choke!" Jamie coughed right as Holly took the shot. Holly's shot jumped into the air and almost scratched.

Matt stared at Holly in mock accusation.

Holly punched Jamie in the arm. "Hey, thanks."

"Ow." Jamie winced, rubbing his shoulder. Holly turned away, but Matt saw Jamie roll his eyes and grin behind her back. "Alright, Scar, show 'em how it's done."

The four of them were on winter vacation in Miami. Friends since forever. Scarlett Miller, known to the group as Scar, Holly Dayne, Jamie Campbell, and Matt Kenderson.

Scar lined up her shot, took it, wincing as it went before finally making it into the pocket.

"Yeah! Alright, Scar!" Jamie whooped.

Matt raised his eyebrows. "It's just a game of pool."

"That I happen to be beating you in," Jamie continued, immediately making Matt both annoyed and laughing.

"Don't get used to it." Matt muttered as Scar missed her next shot. Matt proceeded to demonstrate one of his semi-random bouts of extraordinary pool-shooting ability, knocking in five consecutive balls. He then completely whiffed on the last one.

"How do you manage to do that when you suck as badly as the rest of us?" Holly asked.

"What can I say? Must be a beast or something." Matt nodded sarcastically.

Matt leaned back on the wall, drained his coke, and stole Holly's.

Jamie made his shot, noticed Matt's growing stack of empty glasses, and said, "There he goes again. I swear, you go through coke like normal people go through water."

"Which I've only heard about half-a-million times, by the way."

"Truth's the truth, man." Jamie replied.

In the next two shots, Holly knocked in the last of the solids and then the black, winning the game.

"Hmm, sucks." Matt sighed. He looked up, and the look on Jamie's face was hilarious enough that Matt took a picture of it with his cellphone and texted it back to Jamie.

Jamie opened his phone and looked at the picture. "Very funny. You're a riot."

"I'm glad you appreciate it." Matt grinned, sliding his phone shut.

"Lemme see." Scar slid up and examined Jamie's phone. "Very cute." She informed him.

"No you didn't say it right," Holly smiled. "It goes, 's'cute.'"

"S'cute, then." Jamie said. "Anyways."

All four of them put their sticks up. Matt slipped on his sweatshirt and waited for the others at the door. They left the bar, and once on the street, Matt asked, "You guys wanna crash at my place again?"

"Yeah, sure. That was part of the deal." Jamie said, speaking for them all.

The four of them piled into Matt's Dodge Charger, Matt being the only one yet with a driver's license. Holly and Scar hadn't gotten around to getting one yet, and Jamie had some kind of problem with his parents. Matt wasn't exactly sure. The Prius was an older car, but Matt's dad had amused himself with the various attempts Matt had thrown up at changing his dad's mind for his first car. Absolutely point blank, it wasn't going to be a new, expensive one.

Scar and Jamie looked at eachother, then both raced for the shotgun seat. Scar beat him this time.

"You got me this time." Jamie admitted as he took his hand off of hers, which had been on the handle first.

"Pff. What happened to chivalry?" Matt asked.

"Matt, there are a few things still left for you to learn. One of them is Calculus," At which Matt nodded, grimacing. "And the other is that chivalry becomes moot and void when in certain circumstances. One such circumstance is fighting for shotgun in a car."

"You'll have to teach me sometime." Matt said. He climbed into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition.

Just as the key slotted in, Matt's head exploded in pain. Someone was splitting open his skull and stabbing at his brain with a rusty spork. Matt clenched in his seat, but just as quickly as the pain came, it was gone.

"You okay?" Scar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Matt grunted, pale and sweating. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Scar reached a hand across and put it on Matt's forehead. She closed her eyes, focusing, and drew her hand back.

"Better?" She asked.

Matt nodded. Scar had always had a near-magical ability with pains. Just being around her seemed to erase Matt's headache.

"Let's just get back home."

The four men had no names. They knew eachother by callsigns, made-up references that had no bearing on actual life. There was the leader, Red One, and his three squadmates, Red Two, Three, and Four. They had no accents, as each had been trained extensively by private linguists until no trace of their original nationality remained in their voices. Each was fluent in five languages, including English, Russian, Mandarin Chinese, French, and Spanish. Their fingerprints had been surgically smoothed out. Their gear, high-tech, high-expense, and completely mixed to prevent any traces of their purchase habits. They had gear from H&K, Glock, Colt, Kalishnikov. Their combat packs were all world-marketed.

The four men had no discerning features - no birthmarks, no tattoos. They had the kind of faces that managed to look both strong and typical, easily forgotten. One had dark blond hair. Two had brown hair. One had black hair. Their eyes were blue, green, and brown, but besides that, there was nothing to differentiate them from any other of countless businessmen, except their matte black combat gear and high-tech weaponry.

All told, every aspect of their appearance had been manipulated so as to eliminate all traces of their previous existence. And the organization they worked for was good at it, too.

Red One spotted the lights of a building through the under-water murk of the Carribean Sea. This was their target. With an Infrared optics probe, he confirmed the building and slowed his hand-held jet-propulsion device to half power. The sea became completely quiet, and but for his NVG/Infrared/Thermal visor in his full-face helm, nothing could be seen. Stealth was key in their mission, until they got to the building. Even the vast liquid expanse around them, inky black in the moonlight, seemed to have quieted, as if holding its breath for the main event.

Red One never smiled. After everything he had seen and done in his life, such actions didn't come easily. But if anyone were to see him now, and didn't know him better, they would swear a faint grin flickered on the Russian Black-Operative's face.

The fifteen minute drive to the outskirts of the city quickly brought them to Matt's parent's house in Miami. Located directly on the beach, it was a giant beach villa, fit specifically for leisure and recreation. Terracotta roof shingles went perfectly with the white-washed stucco walls and open-air courtyards, accented by large windows and graceful balconies. The house was built kind of like a fortress, with the garage at the front, directly connected to a courtyard that served as the front hall. A door led into the living room, and then the rest of the house was completely open, with very few walls, except where a grand staircase on one side rose into the asymmetrical tower that held four bedrooms, three study/library rooms, and an aquarium.

After having parked the car, Matt walked through the courtyard and deposited his shoes near the archway, saying, "Alright guys, you know the drill. Shoes at the door, 'cause my parents'l kill me if they find a speck of dirt anywhere else in the place. Anyone up for a drink?" then hopped over the bar into the semi-modern kitchen. The rest of the crew slid onto barstools in front of one of the kitchen's two counters.

Matt opened the fridge, saying, "We've got Vanilla Coke, ginger ale, Dr. Pepper, you name it we got it."

"I'll have the usual." Jamie smirked as he leaned back on the stool. Matt slid him a Dr. Pepper and a ginger ale, then a plastic glass filled with ice. He grabbed a coke for Holly and Scar, a vanilla coke for himself, and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, leaning against the counter and admiring the view past the now-open doors leading to another courtyard, with a pool and pool table, as well as a mini tiki-bar. Right past the sea-wall, down ten feet, was the beach, thirty feet of private sand, into the crash of the waves. Paradise.

Jamie swirled his ginger-ale-Dr. Pepper combination in his glass and took a sip. "I love this place. How about I just like move in?"

"Fine by me, but you'd have to secure permission from the higher authorities." Matt said.

"Good luck with that." Scar smiled.

Jamie shrugged. "It'd be fun, though."

"I-" Matt was cut off by the sound of crashing glass.

The four of them looked at eachother for a moment. Matt and Jamie stood and pulled knives from their pants pockets. There was another crash, then an alarm as the sensors in the window that had just broken were tripped.

Jamie started for the dining room, where the sounds had begun.

Matt caught him by the collar. "Don't even think about it, moron."

"But if there's just one guy and we have knives-"

"And if he's just one guy with just one gun he can put a bunch of somewhat painful holes through your body. It doesn't take a trained marksman to hit a guy six feet tall inside a confined room."

"We could ambush him-"

"Everyone upstairs, to my office." Matt ordered. The girls hurried up the stairs, reluctantly followed by Jamie.

Matt closed the doors as they went, locking each one quickly. They stopped at a landing at the top and took the door to the left, entering his office. At the other end of this room was Matt's bedroom; on the right of the landing was a similar configuration for his parents.

Matt double checked that everyone was in the room, shut the solid maple door, slid the bolt, and jumped to the window. He leaned against the side of the frame, holding his knife backhanded. There were three men skirting the shadows, ripping open desks and drawers and spilling contents. Searching for something.

The sight nearly boiled Matt's blood.

"Hey Matt?" Holly said. "You've got some black paint in that art kit of yours, right?"

"Somewhere. Why?" Matt asked through clenched teeth, then looked over his shoulder.

Holly was grinning, clutching an airsoft rifle to her chest. A mockup HK-UMP45. Matt took down a wood box from a shelf, opened the clamshell kit, and selected a tube of matte black acrylic paint. He didn't bother with a brush, but used his finger to smear the orange-colored cap with the paint, masking its 'I'm a toy, not a weapon' indicator. Jamie similarly treated a pair of handguns Matt also kept in his desk while Matt fished his Maglite out of a drawer.

"So where's your duct-tape?" Jamie asked expectantly. Matt winced.

"Well..."

"Tell me you ha- you don't have duct-tape up here, do you." Jamie finished, shaking his head. "Kenderson, you disappoint me."

"Well, I didn't really expect armed robbers to be invading my beach house anytime soon, did I? Boxing tape works just as well."

"Why the H do you have boxing tape up here but not duct-tape?" Jamie practically yelled.

"I was packaging your Christmas present, as a matter of fact. I think it's safe to say you could use it right now."

"What is it?" Jamie asked. Matt lifted a small amazon box. Jamie tore it open.

"Isn't this illegal?" Jamie asked, awe coloring his voice.

"Who cares?" Matt answered. "Its a combat knife."

"I'll take that knife, then." Scar said, pulling Jamie's regular flip-out blade from the pocket of his jeans. "I called the police, they're on the way. Ten minutes out."

"For all the good that'll do us. My house will be torched and completely destroyed by then." Matt muttered angrily. He shook his head and collapsed into his desk chair, face resting in his hands. Something felt off. He was getting a huge migraine, and something was churning unnaturally in his stomach. Matt got the impression it wasn't really his stomach, though. More kidney-area.

A distant bang reverberated through the walls. The sound of splintering wood followed a second later. Footsteps, then another bang, and another door was kicked off its hinges. Whoever was coming was strong. Really strong.

The guy must have followed the trail of closed doors, because the door knob to Matt's office wiggled. The door didn't budge. Matt nodded and motioned, and Jamie stood to one side of the door with his combat knife ready. Matt leveled the UMP-45, and each of the girls held a handgun in one hand and a knife with the other.

As expected, the guy on the other side called to his buddies before he started to breach. Unexpectedly, instead of breaking the door down with his foot, the door shattered and exploded.

Matt was knocked to the ground from the concussive force, bleeding out of his nose and his jaws moving in slow motion. His ears rang, and he tasted blood. Matt wiped his mouth and nose with his arm and tried to stand.

Holly had backed to a corner of the room in time to avoid the worst of the blast. She was staggering to her feet when the two soldiers jammed themselves into the room. Jamie was disarmed and slammed into a wall by the first soldier. Scar was thrown to the ground in one second, and Holly was staring down the barrel of a large automatic weapon the next, painted by a flashlight and laser. Matt backed up, holding his UMP. It wouldn't do any good.

The soldier that had disarmed Jamie spun and drilled a blast next to Matt's head, shouting, "Drop the gun!"

Matt did as he was ordered and raised his hands, wincing. That pressure he had been feeling was worse. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Matt counted the beats of his pulse, and the double-pump of his heart was queerly elongated into two separate thumps. Pressure built steadily in his forehead as the soldier advanced as if through water.

Matt closed his eyes, and when he reopened them everything was a differing shade of blue. Shadows were darker, bright light was whitish ice. The pressure in his forehead broke and came flooding into his body in a surge of liquid energy, his body burning with power. The liquid shot through his chest, down his arms, and into his hands, where it pooled momentarily in two clouds of murky blue mist and set Matt's hands tingling before it jumped to the soldier.

The Russian was hit by an semi-visible wall of force. It slammed into him, cracking ribs, breaking his faceplate, and spraining joints. The man was thrown bodily across the room into the wall, where her crashed partway through and left a crater in the drywall.

The other Russian responded in slow-motion. Matt blinked and turned his attention to the second one, swept his arm across, and flattened the soldier against the other wall with a wave of his hand. Concussion, neck twisted at an odd angle, bones shattered. Unconscious if not dead for quite a while.

The burning energy dissipated all of a sudden, and time sped back up to normal. Matt's entire body tingled, his head killed, and he felt completely drained. Matt sagged and caught himself on his desk, barely registering the thundering footsteps rushing up the stairs.

Two more soldiers entered the room with weapons drawn. These guys were pros. They barely blinked an eye when they saw two of their own down - instead, one crossed the room, socked Holly in the mouth, forcing her to sit heavily in a chair with a surprised look, and then turned on Matt. Matt raised his arm, feeling as if it weighed several hundred pounds. He could barely make his body respond.

Jamie was shoved into a wall again, then had his head beat into the door, then was thrown across the room. Scar backed into the wall with her hands raised, but the black-clad figure wasn't about to let her off that easily. He body-slammed her against the wall and then stretched her out over Matt's desk with a knife at her throat, shaking her viciously.

Jamie struggled to his knees. He saw Scar get body checked into the wall and everything went red. The room was a dull red, while people were bright red/orange. His head felt throbbing and he broke out into a cold sweat. The pressure in his head was at a seemingly impossible level and rising. He felt hisassailant push him onto his chest and push his knee into Jamie's back. His skull felt like it couldn't take it anymore, but the building pressure got worse and worse with each wave. He saw Scar's attacker push her onto her knees and draw back to slam the butt of his gun into the back of her head. Jamie threw his head back and let loose a scream filled with pain and instantly the fire behind Scar's opponent flared up, scorching and catching his pack on fire. He pushed himself upright against the Russian's knee and let loose another scream, this time the pressure exploded out and he felt the man on his back releasse him. He looked around and found his attacker holding a scorched leg and Matt's assailant picking himself up off the ground.

Jamie looked down at and found the carpet around his hands on fire. He didn't have much time to think about this as he threw up on the carpet before curling up in a ball as pain wracked his frame.

The last robber looked around wildly, obviously wondering how his buddy had magically sailed across a room with fire spreading across his chest.

Next Chapter: Atlantis Rising: Chapter 3

Homepage: Atlantis