Young Writers Society

Firestarter · 2006-10-02T19:22:36Z

Okay, here's the deal. I needed something to write, so I thought a stupid YWS fanfic would be in order. A quick summary: YWS is an underground, organised resistance group that use writing as a front to fight a police state (known only as "The Publishers") that has destroyed civil liberty. It has a military arm. Most people are included (that I know myself) but might not appear till later on. A Word Too Far 1. All Quiet On The Writing Front She looked at the note still clamped in her hand, given to her only a few hours before. Codeword: Pat Buchanan The paper was scrunched, and the ink had smudged so the words were barely readable, but the message was still strong. She had the codeword! Finally she could access the underground resistance. For months she'd searched and searched for any evidence of the shadowy, clandestine group that had thwarted the government for so long. All she had found was a possible locations; people had told her the sewers, the mountains, the forests. A week ago she had been ready to give up all hope. Until a short, unexpected e-mail had landed in her spam folder, with no name attached. Usually she didn't look there, knowing that the filters were pretty good and only the usual crap went there. But there were 700 e-mails and she hadn't cleared them out. There was one that caught her attention as she moved the mouse to click on the "Delete All" button. In the subject title was her internet handle, "Claudette." No-one ever sent her e-mails with that name. The people who usually cared enough to e-mail her knew her real name. Against all her reservations, her interest won over and she clicked to load the e-mail up. Nothing more than the usual spam. Looking good is everyone's dream. Many people go as far as cosmetic surgery to get the body that they want because they think other than harsh dieting there is no other way. However I can tell you that that isn't the case. There is a simple but very effective way to get the body that you want. It's not a diet, its not cosmetic surgery and it's not a celebrity price either! Until another few lines down. Her eyes caught something out of place. What if you could have 20 years taken off? You would of course be shaking your head in disbelief, Claudette. You'd be saying, "How can something like this be real? How could they not know? How can this secret stay secret for so long?" Ring me on 0796758554 and you'll find out that it's all true, and they don't know anything about it. Then if I told you that you can have all your energy levels restored you would again be shaking your head. Then, again, if I were to tell you that you could have full hair and wonderful looking skin you would just laugh in my face. Well, I can prove what I'm saying. A spam e-mail had never mentioned her name before. The sentences after were strange too. The emphasis on "they" was apparent. And who gave phone numbers to ring these days? The government recorded phone calls and searched them for key words. Everyone used the internet, because the hackers could at least keep one step ahead of the latest government technology. She looked at one line in particular with scrutiny -- "you'll find out that it's all true, and they don't know anything about it." She got a sudden shiver up her back. E-mails were screened by the government, since almost ever server was owned by them now. That's why finding out anything about the resistance was pretty much impossible. What if someone was trying to contact her? What if that line wasn't talking about stupid cosmetic surgery, but hinting at something else much more sinister? Excited, she flipped out her mobile and began to dial. Then she stopped, angry with herself. It's just another stupid spam e-mail trying to con you out of money! Attempting to forget about the whole thing, she yawned and went to bed. That night she didn't sleep. The words of the e-mail seemed to speak in her mind. She turned over and over but sleep didn't come. After going downstairs to get a drink of water, she saw the glow of her laptop and felt a sudden courage emerge within. Loading up her e-mails once more, she typed the number into her mobile and rang it. Even if it is 3 am, she thought. The phone rang for about ten seconds, before it was answered. Before she could speak, a deep male voice commanded, "Meet me at the West Square today at noon." "Wha - who are you?" she asked. The person, whoever they were, hung up. All she could hear was the drawn-out beep. West Square at noon? Who was that? Why have they contacted me? The only conclusion that she could come up with was the resistance. An unscheduled meet in a public area at the busiest time of the day? A short phone call unlikely to be recorded? A strange e-mail? Despite work that day, she made a resolution to meet the mysterious contact at noon in West Square who somehow knew her internet handle and wanted to meet her straight away. Footsteps jerked her back to the present, the note still gripped in her hand. They echoed in the deserted, unused sewers, abandoned by the government after new technology had rendered them useless. She walked forward in the near-darkness with caution, her empty hand outstretched forward. You have the codeword. You'll be fine. She heard the footsteps again, closer this time. The thud against the dried-out sewer floor. She carried on forward, gulping and fighting back her fear. Her hands were shaking and all she could feel was the intense beating of her heart, the blood circulating, the adrenaline pumping. There were no sounds of footsteps anymore. Just a constant dripping in front of her. Drip. Drip. Drip. A hand gripped around her mouth. She collapsed. *** "Lieutenant!" called Corporal Fishr. She smashed open the door without knocking, a big grin forming on her young face. "We got one, sir." Lieutenant Snoink was busy on her typewriter, the silence following Corporal Fishr statement defeated by the constant tapping of keys. "Lieutenant?" Snoink looked up. "Fishr, how many times will I have to ask you to call me by my code?" "A few more times, sir," Fishr answered, blushing. "And don't call me sir. It makes me feel old. You follow the rules by the book, though, don't you?" Snoink frowned. She had just figured out what to change in a particularly annoying sentence. "So where did you catch them?" Fishr grinned again. "In the sewers." Lieutenant Snoink nodded, getting up from her seat and walking out of her office into the main corridor, if it could be called a corridor at all, with broken stones and holes everywhere. Fishr followed her, both striding down toward the prison with pace in their steps. They made it to the far end of the corridor quickly, saluting the guards on the door. They walked through to see a young girl sitting down in her cell, head in her hands. 1st Sergeant Caligula was there. She smiled as she saw Snoink walk in. "We got her, Snoink, walking round the outer perimeter." "Well done, Cal." "First one in ages." "I know." Both of them shared a smile. It was a breakthrough. 1st Lieutenant Snoink walked over to the cell. The imprisoned girl looked up. There were tears in her eyes. "I'm Snoink." "Wha-what am I doing here? Why have you imprisoned me? Are you with th-them? The Publishers?" Everyone in the room laughed. "Not quite. I'm head of a counter-intelligence unit called SPEW. We make it our job to ... question anybody who goes looking for the resistance. You were caught by one of our patrols on the north side, with the codeword in your hand. Now, considering that codeword is changed every week, and we don't let it out very often, we thought we'd lock you up instead of just killing you, like we usually do." The girl gulped. Snoink continued. "Now, as you know, access to the resistance isn't public. Otherwise editors would walk into our midst without trouble. Don't worry, some have tried." She patted the pistol at her hip lightly. "B-but I'm not an editor, or a government agent, or anything like that! If I was, I could have released the password!" "True," Snoink replied. "But how do we know you haven't anyway?" The girl didn't reply. They were interrupted as someone burst through the door. "Private Xanthan reporting, sir," she said, wiping away a lock of hair from her sweating forehead. "I got the equipment." Xanthan passed a long, thin metallic object, almost like a pen, to Snoink. Snoink pointed it toward the girl. "What's that?" she stammered, with fearful eyes. "Well, it should scan you to see if you're of good use to use or not." "Does it hurt?" the girl asked. "Not really. Just look into the light. Right at the light," Snoink replied, a blue light shining from the top of the object. "Actually, wait a minute ... Private, is this the scanning device or one of those memory-messer-uppers?" Private Xanthan looked confused. "I don't really know, sir, I just grabbed the nearest object from the store cupboard." "What were you doing in SPEW training?" Lieutenant Snoink asked. "Err ... writing poetry, mostly." "Oh yeah ... your poetry is great. I love your beautiful images!" Snoink said, smiling. She shook herself. "Wait a minute! Stop distracting me. Go get one of the scanners and put the standard issue neuralyzer back in the ... cupboard." Private Xanthan ran out. Corporal Fishr was looking strangely at Snoink. "Sir, did you ever flashy-thing me?" "No." "I'm not playing with you. Did you ever flashy-thing me?" "No!" Private Xanthan ran back in, this time with a metallic object identical to the neuralyzer, except it was black. "That's why I got confused, sir." Snoink shrugged and grabbed the scanner off her. She pointed it at the girl and didn't even let her protest -- a red light emitted from the object, casting the imprisoned girl in a surreal red glow. A strange computer voice came from the object and the red light disappeared. "Results complete. Codename: Claudette. Capability potential: High. Chance of being a Government Agent: 0.5%." It was Snoink that spoke first. "Well, that's sorted then. Even I got about 5% on the government agent test ..." *** Captain Dono rushed into the office. "Jacko! Did you hear?" "About the girl? Yeah." Major Firestarter was sat at his desk, buried in a pile of paperwork. He leaned back in his seat as Captain Dono, commanding officer of Easy Company, drew up a seat across from him. "And?" Dono asked. "I'm putting her in Fox, Dono. They need her there. They took casualties on the last outsider and Crys basically begged me for her." "We need people too, Jack." "Everyone does," the Major replied, one of the few soldiers who had forsaken his codename in preference of his real name. Even the ranks called him by his first name. "The Editors have known our every move. Every time we go outside they know exactly where to hit us." "We gotta stop trusting those literary agents, I'm telling ya. Give me a squad, we'll grab one of them at gunpoint, drag their ass back here and beat it out of them." "That's not how we work, and you know it, Dono. We'd never get a meeting again." Firestarter sighed. It was a constant debate. Trust the literary agents, and sometimes get betrayed by a fake deal? Or don't trust them, and alienate any of them from the cause. "They're wanting more payment, you know. Since the last few times." Dono nodded. In the last few meetings that the Editors had broken up, three literary agents had been murdered. "I'll give you the next one that comes in, promise." Dono got up and walked toward the door. At the last moment he turned, and said, "Who's got the next mission?" "It's a toughie." "Mine can handle it." A pause, then - "You seen Nate recently?" "The Colonel? He's been away, communicating with other resistance groups." Dono left. Major Firestarter stayed looking up for a few seconds, despite there being nothing there. He grimaced, and looked back at the paperwork he had to do. Adding new recruit Private Claudette to Fox Company. Captain Crysi had suggested adding her to Sergeant KayJuran's squad in Fire Support platoon, under 2nd Lieutenant Dusky. Firestarter signed it. Apparently she had already made an impression on some of the older guys in the company.

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A Word Too Far

Firestarter

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Sun Dec 03, 2006 8:46 pm

Firestarter says... · Sun Dec 03, 2006 8:46 pm

I wrote a couple of paragraphs for the next chapter, so expect an update this week ... maybe.

Someone dies! Who will it be?

Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.

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Ego

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Mon Dec 04, 2006 5:45 am

Ego says... · Mon Dec 04, 2006 5:45 am

Dude it's totally me. You're mad cuz you die later in mine

Got YWS? I do.

Lumi: Don't you drag my donobby into this.
Lumi: He's the sweetest angel this side of hades.

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sabradan

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Mon Dec 04, 2006 9:23 pm

sabradan says... · Mon Dec 04, 2006 9:23 pm

Dude. this is amazingly amazing. I'm loving it too much to be a (in the words of Mesh) Crazy-editor.

I am assuming I will be mentioned in it too? If so I would love to find out what I am.

"He who takes a life...it is as if he has destroyed an entire world....but he who saves one life, it is as if he has saved the world entire" Talmud Sanhedrin 4:5

!Hasta la victoria siempre! (Always, until Victory!)
-Ernesto "Che" Guevarra

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Firestarter

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Tue Dec 05, 2006 2:43 pm

Firestarter says... · Tue Dec 05, 2006 2:43 pm

You are Sab! *looks up details* You're a Sergeant in Fox Company.

Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.

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-KayJuran-

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Tue Dec 05, 2006 3:20 pm

-KayJuran- says... · Tue Dec 05, 2006 3:20 pm

This is great Jack! Can't believe I only just found it... that's what I get for just looking at the posts from after I last logged in.

Hehe, and I'm a sergeant! Um... I have absolutely no idea how ranks work or anything, but it sounds good.

*waits for next installment*

"There you go - sausages à la bread!" - Blue.

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Jiggity

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Thu Dec 14, 2006 6:05 am

Jiggity says... · Thu Dec 14, 2006 6:05 am

*has been waiting for far too long*

*shakes fist angrily*

Hurry up, damn you! I hvae no patience, gaaaaarhh I just want to bite someone in the face! But ... that would have nothing to do with your stalling. No, absolutely not.

Mah name is jiggleh. And I like to jiggle.

"Indecision and terror, thy name is novel." - Chiko

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Firestarter

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Thu Dec 14, 2006 10:41 am

Firestarter says... · Thu Dec 14, 2006 10:41 am

I will not be held responsible for someone being bitten in the face.

Anyway, I might do some next week or today ... maybe. But I always say that.

Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.

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Chibi

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Thu Dec 14, 2006 1:43 pm

Chibi says... · Thu Dec 14, 2006 1:43 pm

Hmm....Nice. My first fanfic reading and well...I'm a little lost as to whats actually happening.

*checks back* yay, I'm a private XD ...somewhere.

Keep it up, and post! I want to know what happens next!

I speak with abscences, my lips move but no sound escapes; my life is but an eternal darkness searching for it's light.

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You got rid of them. Yes, that's just like you. Getting rid of everything unpleasant instead of learning to put up with it.
— Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

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