This is the twelfth chapter in a book I am writing. The book (Undercover and Investigating) is the third book in a series, you can find the previous two books here: https://writeboy.blog/my-stories/ .
What is happening?
Fully decked out in grey, SES has found a dark corner to wait in – lurking like a leopard looking for its luckless prey (or something like that). “Are you sure I can’t wear somethin’ different.” George pulls at the sleeve of his jacket. As he is new to the organization, he doesn’t have a dress uniform so Q had to knock something out ASAP.
“I know it’s not ideal, but we already stand out enough at the moment.” I stretch out along the floor in front of the set of chairs we scavenged, my jacket is draped over the back of one of them. I prop my head on my hand, “I mean it’s gotta be better than that.” I indicate Jacob trying to hold down a particularly stubborn curl of hair that just keeps bouncing up like a spring.
I fiddle with my watch and think I have some understanding as to how it works. The time skip devices: which combine to form a time freezing device: use huge spinning electromagnets with colossal amounts of magnetic force. By linking these time-skip devices, a large area can be encased in a bubble outside of time. The watch simply spins smaller magnets the other direction creating a smaller bubble in which time continues to act normally, the wearer is encased in said bubble and so can operate.
Flicking the face shut, I follow Lizzie who is beckoning me. “Jack,” She nervously looks over her shoulder, “What are you expecting here? I’ve barely ever actually fought these people before.”
“Well, there are usually two or three brutes to every agent in recent attacks. For a major operation like this I would assume they would send somewhere between a half dozen to a dozen agents. That being said, they are unpredictable. The brutes are easily defeated, just make sure to pair up agents so one agent doesn’t get over powered in sheer strength.”
“Right, what about the agents?” Lizzie looks a strange mix of attentive, apprehensive and yet still determined.
“Well, one SES agent can fight one of theirs alone and win and also fight one of the brutes and win but the problem is we can’t do it simultaneously. The brutes will attack SES when we are distracted with the Collective Power agents. Then we get hostage situations which aren’t fun.” I close the door of a deserted walk-in closet somewhere, “Right,” Lizzie nods, “We just need to talk about a last few things with you. We have been discussing tactics; Collective Power like to single people out find our weak spots and exploit them. So, we have to make sure we don’t have any.” I pause.
“The people who we will fight today,” I stress the will, “will use the agents to draw us out and away from each other and then the brutes will over power us with sheer strength. Therefore, we need to be glued to each other’s hips no matter what we stick to our pair or trio. We will keep the usual training partners- George stay with Jacob and Elijah and just do your best.” I look round the sombre room and it hits me that as well as the country, every face looking at me is counting on me, “We don’t have a choice so let’s act not react.”
We sit in a corner, CAPS the other side of the room to us. Emily leans on my arm, “Jack, we can do this you know, and we will.”
“Yeah, we’ve got to.”
The bands strike up a beat and every uniform in the building snaps to attention, drawing the sharp creases and crisp folds perfectly straight. It is a sight to behold, row upon row of uniformed men, women and children with every colour of uniform on the spectrum we go completely unnoticed. Then the parade goes through, golden carriages bearing the heads of state of 14 founding countries of the commonwealth trading alliance. Four great stallions pull each carriage, finally coming to a stop in front of Waterloo Barracks and the Oriental Gallery. The doors are opened in unison by red coats and the Heads of States all wave as they descend from the carriages.
When their toes are inches off the ground, they freeze. The sticks hover over the drum skins and the Regimental Sergeant Major’s shout is abruptly silenced. Waves are left un returned, questions unanswered and commands unobeyed. The SES acts.
CAPS and IMPS slide to a stop in front of the carriages and we all rake every inch of our surroundings. The hairs on my neck prick up and I have the feeling of someone’s eye boring into the back of my head, I turn to Emily (our eyes lock) and she nods. The suspect tranquillity disappears instantly, the equilibrium shatters all in a slow, monotone laugh (like all the life had been sucked out of the laugher) and a word. “Hahaha, Smith…” The door to the Oriental Gallery swings open revealing three Collective Power agents all in black jump suits, “I’ve killed one, now I’ll kill a second. Maybe even polish off your mother for the hattrick.”
A vein in my temple throbs with rage, I stare straight at him and he just laughs. Tattoos invade up his neck, a scar runs from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth (giving him a satanical smile) completing the look is a burn covering a large portion of the right side of his face. “What have ya got for us then? C’mon we’re not scared.” My fury controls my mouth as I bark like a riled-up dog.
He continues his demonic cackle and slowly shakes his head, “Just like your dad, you are! And we all know how that turned out don’t we?” I snap, picking up one of the larger chunks of gravel and hurl it straight at him. He doesn’t move a muscle and it simply drops in front of him, “Oh yeah, I forgot to say, I’m untouchable.”
I’m about to charge him down when Emily comes and grabs my arm, “Jack!” she cries, pointing over my shoulder to a swarm of helicopters. The sound of scores of rotas fills the air, the continuous thump, thump, thump swells into a deafening crescendo. It intrudes every area, everything slows down…
As the first helicopter begins to descend the nine – heavily outnumbered SES agents rush into the White Tower. The oldest part of the Tower of London, the White Tower was built be William the Conqueror. Designed to terrify foreign enemies and Londoners alike, it is an impregnable fortress which has stood strong for years and watched London grow and rule the world, flourish and fight for nearly a millennium. Now, for the first time since the Peasants’ Revolt in 1370, the battlements will be needed once more.
Writeboy 