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| − | Hi all! this is an excerpt written by Will from the second book in the series, "The Atlantian Conspiracy"! Otherwise, we have nothing for you to look at.
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| − | ==Excerpt 1==
| + | Reroute page: [[Atlantis]] |
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| − | Suddenly there was an explosion that rung through Tom's ears, and the police cars' flaming fragments were rolling side over side. Tom instinctively ducked for cover. He was crouching beside a beaten up green Honda Accord, and knew his only chance was to get to his car without being seen. He heard heavy footsteps approaching and what sounded like ammo clanking around, but couldn't tell whether it was coming from the left or the right. He made a guess. His car was straight ahead of him. If he could just make a quick dash... Everything seemed to flash before his eyes; the blur of the various cars seemed to come at him faster than thought. Something dropped with a metallic thud to the ground. Tom could hear confused shouts echoing behind him. A barbaric war cry rang out over the parking lot and Tom ignored it, sprinting on. All he could think about was getting to his car. Bullets ricocheted off of his car due to the reinforced steel and bulletproof windows. 5 more yards to go. 4. 3. 2. 1. Tom leaped into the silver Aston Martin DBs with relief. Most people would say that Tom was in an impossible situation. About 20 Iraqis trailed him, 6 with Stinger missiles. Tom saw it through attentive eyes. As the Iraqis loaded the explosive warheads, Tom made his move. "''I wonder what these Iraqis enjoy on their bread more: olive oil or butter? Hmmmm, let's think about that. Olive oil it is then,''" Tom thought. He sprayed about 12 of the Iraqis with oil slick. "Happy birthday!" he yelled out the window and chucked a match onto one of the Iraqis. It was a chain reaction. The Iraqis' high-pitched screams of agony were muffled as Tom's engine roared to life. He sped forward, turning and skidding at the last second, coming around 180 with the hood of the car facing the remaining cowering Iraqis. Pressing a concealed button, two secret panels slid aside, revealing two Stinger missile launchers. Tom fired two missile launchers at the AA troopers. They flew about 30 feet in the opposite direction. The two remaining Iraqis sprinted towards Tom's car, AK-74's blazing. Tom didn't care; the bullets were ricocheting off of his bulletproof windows. Tom went in full reverse about 40 feet backwards, then sped towards the pair of Iraqis. They screamed and dived to the side, dodging Tom's car. He had anticipated this, and now the Iraqis were behind him. Tom brought out the rear machine gun and pumped the two Iraqis full of lead. Swerving again, he changed direction, speeding through a side road as he felt the sheer power of his 705 horsepower V12 engine encased in the car. Tom knew that it wouldn't be long before he "served his next customer". He was right. About 1200 yards away, 6 Humvees menacingly engaged pursuit.
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| − | In the excerpt, it doesn't exactly tell you ''why'' he is in the situation he's in, but that will be incorporated into the story (there is probably some reconnaissance mission he's on).
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| − | ==Excerpt 2==
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| − | Excerpt: A random team of extremely skilled archaeologists who happen to be somewhat good at fighting as well:
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| − | "Carson, come look at this!" Eva exclaimed as she held up a small chunk of a silvery-gold piece of mica or chunk of some rock. Or at least, that's what this looked like to the untrained eye, because it was roughly formed in the shape of a spearhead. No one would have guessed that it was actually a piece of Orichalcum that survived all these years.
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| − | "Do you know what this is?" Carson asked, looking over excitedly.
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| − | "Yeah, of course! Better get this back to the lab." Eva exclaimed, genuine delight dancing in her pale Grey-dove eyes. This was probably the find of her career. Proving the existence of a mythological and ancient metal believed to have been found only on Atlantis! Five years ago, if you had said that word, most respected scientists and archaeologists would look at you like you were a nutcase and move on with their lives, only now minimizing contact with you. Now though... they would look at you with awe, fear, and respect flashing in their eyes as they recalled every scrap of information they had ever heard of the legendary super continent.
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| − | Plus, there was always the later bonus, after it was proven to exist, of some museum or collector buying it from them for a hefty some of cash, although that was only a secondary concern right now. Still though, Eva sometimes fantasized about how much she and the others on her archeology team could squeeze out of a wealthy bidder when times were tough and uncertain.
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| − | The archeology team she belonged to consisted of two women including herself, Eva Lane, the other being Caroline Jones, and five men; Tim Carson, Brian Kenderson, Anton Beckett, Al Shepard, and Fred Lane. Their team was headed by the animated Tim Carson. He was about fifty, with graying hair combed back neatly and streaks of black running in stripes. His tough, craggy face bespoke a rugged and powerful man, but his soft, baby-blue eyes ruined the image, portraying the gentle, caring father he was.
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| − | Brian Kenderson was the cousin of the famous Matthew Kenderson, one of the most well-known American names in the war. He was somewhat impulsive, and he liked to show off about how much he knew on just about every subject anyone cared to name, but he was pretty cool once you got to know him better. He was the team's technology expert, and he looked it at seventeen, with blond hair, just like his cousin, and a tough, lean face that was almost always bruised or cut, and dark, half moon circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.
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| − | Anton Beckett and Al Shepard were so similar they were always mixed up by everyone else around them. They could have passed for brothers despite their completely different families, even though Anton was twenty eight and Al was twenty five. They both had the same, slightly upturned noses and eyes that crinkled when they laughed.
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| − | Caroline Jones was the loudmouth of the group, with somewhat plump cheeks and orange-streaked hair. Her hazel eyes told the story of a bright and happy teen, at eighteen years old, and she was never without a smile on her face.
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| − | And then there was her perpetually annoying know-it-all younger brother, Fred. Fred and Brian hung out together the most of any of the team. Two peas in a pod, she always said. Both of them had an uncanny knack for intellectual subjects, except that Brian was built big and stocky and Fred was leaner and more wiry. His freckled face could look all too serious at times and too lighthearted and carefree at others. Both she and Fred had to stand up to something close along the lines of a celebrity treatment whenever they went anywhere, but that was only because they were cousins of the ultra-famous Thomas Lane, another of the best soldiers in the war. Fred could never live that down.
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| − | Anton walked over, examining the find. Here was proof. Not only did they now know for certain that Atlantis existed, they could actually see it on TV whenever they wanted. But this was proof that Plato hadn't been lying when he talked about a new metal. But the biggest thing of all was their location; Stonehenge, England. Literally on the ruins of the old monuments. Now just what they were for...
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| − | "Wow. I just can't believe it. Atlantians, or Atlantian traders, all the way out here?" Anton asked.
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| − | "Apparently so." Fred said. "And I'll bet a month's salary that there's more to be found around here."
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| − | "I'll also wager some cash that the higher-ups will claim this all for themselves under the grounds of funding and starting the expedition." Brian said. Of course Fred agreed whole-heartedly.
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| − | Their archeology team was a part of a bigger organization, the Foundation for the Study of Atlantian Artifacts, or FSAA. The organization was run by-
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| − | Eva's train of thought was interrupted by a harsh yell;
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| − | "Get them away from there! Quickly!" She looked up, and saw that about a hundred yards away, a fleet of five pickup trucks had parked, behind the perimeter fence bordering the monument.
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| − | "I'll go deal with them." Carson said quickly, exasperatedly. He reached into his back pocket as he walked off to the gate, pulling out the team's archeology pass permitting them to be here. Eva went back to her examination, the rest of the team combing over the site for any missed evidence.
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| − | Three of the men rushed up to the gates, and only now did Carson see that they were carrying AK-74 assault rifles and start to become apprehensive. He held the pass in front of him, glancing quickly back at the rest of the team. Fred was watching him intently, and Carson breathed a sigh of relief. If things got violent, Fred would be there to help him in a moment. Then again, he was only human, and these guys had guns.
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| − | Somebody was shouting at him in broken English. "You not supposed to be here!" He screamed, shouting directly in Carson's face.
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| − | "No, no, see, we have a pass." Carson said, putting on his best friendly smile. The other man stared back at him, a very unfriendly frown on his face.
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| − | "NO! You will not leave. At least, alive." The man said with a cold smile, chuckling to himself as if that was the funniest joke in the world.
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| − | Carson had only a second to panic before the soldier to his right raised the rifle cradled in his arms and fired. Less than a yard away, the man couldn't miss. But he somehow must have. Carson didn't feel anything. Just a vanishing fear...
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| − | He looked down at his body and was surprised to see his chest torn and bloody, with a steady stream of red liquid clouding his white T-shirt. He looked back, and his team was all looking up in stunned silence. Brian and Fred were running towards him at top speed. He should tell them there was nothing wrong. Carson frowned. Why were they running? There was no need. He was fine.
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| − | Carson looked back at the man who was holding his gun still, and the man shouted. But Carson couldn't here them. His brow knit further. The man's lips seemed to move in slow motion. But that only happened in movies, right? No sound was coming out. Carson dimly heard Fred calling his name, again in slow mo. Hmm. He really would have to talk to his doctor about this. Sudden loss of hearing and spacing out, making everything look slow. It was kind of disconcerting.
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| − | Suddenly Carson's strength fled out from his body, and he collapsed onto his knees. A picture of his son flipped out of his shirt pocket and fell to the ground. That was funny. It shouldn't have happened. Then Carson was aware he was tilting forward. He tried to correct his position but couldn't. That must have looked funny to the others. He struggled to grab the photo. He had to. It suddenly seemed like his entire life was focused on picking up that one photo, but his fingers barely obeyed him. When they came into view, they were trembling uncontrollably. He had to pick up the picture. His hands started to close around it...
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| − | A heavy boot came smashing down on Carson's fingers, making him let go the picture. He was distantly aware of a pain as three of his fingers broke, but that seemed to be happening to another person. Suddenly, three fingers hooked underneath his chin and raised it up. He stared into the dull brown... or was it brown? The color seemed to fade away, beginning with the edges of his vision and narrowing down until only the man's dull brown eyes still had color. Then the man reached into his back pocket and took out a handgun. It was an ugly, stubby looking thing. The man whispered something, and this time Carson heard it: "Good bye. Oh, and next time, don't take so long to die." The man said, then pulled the trigger.
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| − | Brian and Fred could only watch in horror, skidding to a stop, as Carson's head jerked back, the bullet entering his brain cavity.
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| − | Carson felt the pain this time. It was sharp, sudden, and intense. He thought about saying ow, so the others would know it hurt. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Now all color, even gray, was fading to black, and he could only see a pinprick of light in the distance. He saw a pair of wings gliding towards him. Unseen arms hooked behind his and started to carry him off. Off and into the light...
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| − | Brian cursed at the top of his lungs, but it didn't help any. Instead, the man with the pistol just raised the barrel, now aiming at him and Fred, and fired six rounds. His aim must have been pretty bad, because exactly like in the action movies, the bullets kicked up dust at their feet and around them, as if there was an invisible ball that encased them which would repel bullets. Hm. That was a cool idea.
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| − | Then Brian and Fred were yelling and scrambling for cover as those bullets stopped for the man to reload, and the two others raised their rifles and opened fire, sending new bullets skidding around the landscape. Fred branched off from Brian and dove behind a clump of rocks and out of sight, more soldiers streaming in through the gates. Meanwhile, the others of the team rushed for cover behind the monument, with the exception of Tim. Tim was too stunned to move, and as a result three bullets stitched diagonally upward across his chest. He bucked with each shot, collapsing with the third. He died instantly as the bullet cut his throat, unlike Carson. Carson died to slowly, with too much pain. Brian would get them for that one, even if he died too.
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