Patriot? – Geoffrey Tan

a story i wrote in year 7, i dug it up recently and found it interesting, hope you do as well 🙂

Patriot?

1500 hours 30/12 2009

The overlooking sun shone brightly through the tattered windows of the corroded and aged warehouse. The fluffy marshmallow like clouds complimented by the blue-sky evidently personified a nonchalant feeling, but within the warehouse, things were indubitably the opposite. James Crawford was an expert and highly renowned MI6 agent and was in the most precarious situation detectives, policemen and spies dreamt of. He was defenceless, his hands were suspended vertically in the air and a gun was mounted against the back of his head. “It ends here now!” shouted the assailant, the trigger was pulled back and a 9mm bullet rocketed out and a constant echo vibrated through the warehouse…

James evaded the bullet by driving his elbow into his unknown adversary’s stomach, knocking him off balance and causing the bullet to severely miss, ricocheting off a dilapidated desk. James speedily drove his foot off the wooden floorboards and flawlessly knocked his assailant’s gun from his hand. The man retaliated with 100% brute force, and threw a hefty and stocky punch directly at James’ face, with total success. James was writhing in pain on his knees while his adversary took advantage of the diversion and dashed out of the warehouse, but James Crawford would make escape inevitably futile.

James was intent on catching the brown haired robust man who was accused of involvement in terrorist activity and was a lead on a baffling case, but after pursuing the man during an everlasting chase out into the ocean, he had miraculously disappeared! The only indication of his location, an island with a looming 5-metre barbed wire fence bordering the perimetre and unidentified activity lurking within…

1900 hours 31/12 2009

A myriad of guard towers were erect from the concrete surface and illuminating spotlights constantly revolved in a meticulous pattern. David Johnson clenched his fist, covering his mouth as he discharged a dry and croaky cough. He turned on his spotlight and began his monotone twilight job of looking for intruders. David was contributing towards guarding a huge metallic coloured white complex and didn’t know what company owned it or what they even did; he was simply paid handsomely and there were no queries what so ever! The vibrant echo of a bouncing pebble broke the silence and every sniper and spotlight instinctively and brusquely followed the thud, but no one was there… David was perplexed and ran his hand through his bushy black Afro while a dark silhouette entered the complex unseen and undetected after an unerring and deliberate decoy, his name, James Crawford.

James Crawford had reached the island through a humid sewage pipe that reeked and was infested with feral rats dressed in a flexible black tracksuit! He was proficient and highly intelligent and was responsible for thwarting the plans of the world’s most devious and destructive criminals. Now, James had breached an island that supposedly didn’t exist, where a man accused of terrorist activity had entered and those two don’t benevolently mix, there must be a huge secret or immoral operation developing within.

James was currently furtively creeping down the corridor of the complex he had just entered. His hazel eyes identical in colour to his smooth and short flat hair were on full alert like a furious and stern hawk. The building was unbelievably plain, enclosing walls were creamy white and extremely repetitive and identical science labs with state of the art facilities were everywhere! The strangest thing was the complex was ominously desolate, not a soul within, but as James progressed deeper, a faint voice could be perceived and then…

2100 hours 31/12 2009

“Where, where, where am I?” James’ eyes were flickering and his hands were firmly bound around the back of the wooden chair he was sitting on. “WHO ARE YOU?” A man with a heavy Russian accent demanded, he ruthlessly slapped James across the face and reiterated the question. James had immediately regained consciousness after being knocked out and was fully aware of the situation, but didn’t reply. The grotesquely ugly man with a trapezium shaped brown moustache, a scar diagonally dividing his face and a Russian war uniform mumbled an order with a despicable tone. Inside the small and dusty square shaped room with a light bulb dangling from the ceiling, one of 2 guards responded by covering James’ face with plastic wrap and pulled it back with no remorse, sucking the life out of him. “Now, must I ask again?”

“My name is James Crawford, who are you, you delinquent!” James slurred impertinently.

“I am General Zharov, a true patriot of Russia and I will lead Russia to world domination. I will…” James immediately interjected,

“Kill millions of innocent people and allow many of your own to perish. Think about it, it’s the 21st century, there are nuclear bombs and highly advanced weapons, no one would win, it’d be the Apocalypse!” James argued seriously, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“I don’t care! Even if I don’t succeed, I would die for Russia and leave a distinct mark on the world. Even as we speak my brilliant plan is hatching into place. Soon the world will be mine… After my formidable attack begins.” He laughed maniacally with a wide expression on his rough scaly face.

“As the President and his dear family are overseas on holiday, he’s declared all of his guards head home for New Years, there will be no one present in and outside of the White House. I will break in, locate the briefcase that controls over a thousand nuclear missiles the American President holds in possession and fire them all around the world after hacking into the device using advanced technology developed by ingenious scientists in this very complex.”

“I don’t believe you, you’re clearly bluffing and you don’t have the guts.” James conned, trying to deceive General Zharov who fell directly into his trap.

“I agree… You’ll be the one to press the button that’ll launch a few thousand nuclear missiles, guards retie him and take him with us, he’ll have the privilege of witnessing and participating in Russia’s uprising!”

2300 hours 31/12 2009

5 men exited a stealthy and sleek helicopter outside the illustrious White House including James and General Zharov. James had a semi-automatic pistol to his back and obeyed all orders to his captors content, but was secretly devising a devious escape. General Zharov and 2 other men firstly shut down all of the security after they had snuck past hidden sensors situated in the colourful garden that was partially invisible due to the dark sky that was plentiful with bright stars. They had now entered the White House and had initiated the hunt for the President’s office where the desired briefcase lay, while the world hung on a tilting balance.

James had requested to go to the toilet and one man was ordered to escort and watch him. After flushing the toilet situated on a hard luxurious marble tiled floor, James scaled the peachy bathroom wall and pushed against all 4 sides with his arms and legs supporting him at the top. The man who was forced to wait for James was growing wearily impatient! He insisted James come out, but there was no smart aleck reply James would customarily give. The man booted the door open and was stumped, as James wasn’t in the windowless bathroom! He was preparing to signal General Zharov but James plummeted from the ceiling and drove his face into the toilet, knocking him out stone cold and stealing his semi-automatic pistol. 1 down, 2 to go…

James trekked through the gigantic White House for the President’s Office but it was vain. He had already lost many costly minutes and General Zharov could have already launched the deadly missiles, it could result in a protruding death toll. James was warily progressing down an elongated corridor with plush and comfortable white carpet, but halted as he was situated in front of a large russet wooden coloured door with the Presidential logo embedded on it. James lightly tugged the door open and he saw General Zharov plugging an electronic contraption into a black briefcase that controlled the President’s nuclear missiles. James barged the door unlock with his large size 7 shoes, caught an unarmed Zharov off guard and pointed the semi-automatic pistol at the General’s head!

“General Zharov, I will fire my gun unless you instantly change your mind, I’m not going to permit you to fire those missiles and commence a world war. You’re not the patriot you claim to be. Patriots unconditionally and regardlessly love their country to death for what it is, they’re proud of it. They also indisputably care for the citizens of their country and if you fire those missiles, the rest of the world will retaliate by killing many innocent Russians.” James was extremely persuasive but knew from years of experience that criminals didn’t usually consider anyone’s opinions. “Although you hold a strong point, I believe that you have more imperative things to be concerned about, for example, turning around.” General Zharov exclaimed casually with an arrogant attitude. He started pressing various buttons on his device that supposedly had the ability to crack passwords and forge fingerprints. James turned around from facing the General standing behind an expensive glass desk and a glass window that presented a grand view and turned around to see the last of General Zharov’s henchmen pointing a gun at James!

James was a metre away from the individual dressed in a typical Mafia suit with a matching hat and took impeccably quick action. James used a swift roundhouse kick to unarm the man and nimbly swivelled his left foot 90 degrees and performed an effective sidekick with his other foot, sending his heel deep into his adversary’s chest, evidently breaking a rib. The kick was as hard as steel and was executed with exceptional precision. James took advantage of his wounded opponent kneeling down and painlessly knocked him unconscious with a skilled chop to the rear head as the carpet cushioned his fall. The fight may have only taken 30 seconds, but that was more than sufficient for General Zharov to launch a few thousand nuclear missiles worldwide!

“It’s too late! When New Years strikes the world will be trembling under my feet after they’ve felt the wrath of a reborn Russia, an impregnable Russia!” General Zharov jeered ecstatically as he punched the air in triumph. James slowly intimidated General Zharov by progressing forwards and the General, with a fearful expression on his face shuffled backwards. James pounced onto the President’s desk and stared briskly at Zharov, it would be the last time.

The General pulled a jagged pocketknife from his grey thigh pocket and lunged ahead and attempted to stab James’ in the heart as he stepped off the table, but epically failed. James tightly caught his wrist and vigorously twisted it, causing Zharov to drop the knife. Zharov was squealing in pain as James levered the General over his head through the President’s glass table, cracking it in two. General Zharov was unconscious, but he had possibly stalled James for long enough, World War III would momentarily commence as a New Year was on the brink!

Melbourne- Federation Square 2359 hours 31/12 2009

Thousands of Melbournians had partied all night and waited for the celebration countdown for a brand New Year. As crowds bundled altogether in Federation Square brainstorming New Years Revolutions a red speck was lighting up the sky from a far and quickly descending.

“Daddy, a firework!” A 3-year-old boy anxiously pointed at what was actually a nuclear missile and his eyes were tracing it in anticipation while in plummeted through the murky sky. “10, 9, 8…5,” The entire crowd counted enthusiastically while the boy was bamboozled, the red dot was now moving upwards, he scratched his head in confusion. “4, 3, 2, 1!” Fire works suddenly rocketed up from Docklands and displayed a stunning array of colours. It appeared as if James Crawford had prevented the Apocalypse, he had saved the world!

Word Count: 2017

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