On returning to his sitting-room, John pulled the large wicker chair in front of the fire and sat there looking at the glowing coals. The night promised to be very cold, and the wind whistled down the chimney, increasing the comfortable sensation of the clear fire. He sat watching the ruddy reflection of the firelight dancing on the panelled wall when he noticed that a picture placed where the end of the bookcase formerly stood was not truly hung, and needed adjustment. A picture hung askew that was particularly offensive to his eyes, and he got up at once to alter it. He remembered as he went up to it that it was at this precise spot four months ago that he had lost sight of the man’s figure which he saw a rise from the same wicker chair he had just been sitting on, and at this memory, he felt an involuntary shudder.
He put one hand behind the picture to steady it, and as he did so, his finger struck a very slight projection in the wall. He pulled the picture a little to one side and saw that what he had touched was the back of a small hinge sunk in the wall, and almost obliterated with many coats of paint. His curiosity was excited, and he took a candle from the table and scrutinized the wall. Inspection soon showed him another hinge a little further up, and by degrees, he perceived that one of the panels had been made at some time in the past to open, and serve probably as the door of a cupboard. At this point, feverish anxiety to re-open this cupboard door took possession of him, and an intense excitement filled his mind. It was an excitement that we experience in the event of a discovery which we fancy may produce important results. He loosened the paint in the cracks with a penknife and attempted to press open the door, but his instrument was not adequate to such a purpose, and all his efforts remained ineffective. His excitement had now reached an overmastering pitch; for he anticipated, though he knew not why, some strange discovery to be made in this sealed cupboard. He looked around the room for some weapon with which to force the door, and at length with his penknife cut away sufficient wood at the joint to enable him to insert the end of the poker in the hole.
The clock in the New College Tower struck one at the exact moment when with a sharp effort, he thus forced open the door. It appeared never to have had a fastening, but merely to have been stuck fast by the accumulation of paint. As he bent it slowly back upon the rusted hinges, his heartbeat so fast that he could scarcely catch his breath, though he was conscious all the while of a ludicrous aspect of his position, knowing that it was most probable that the cavity within would be found empty.
The cupboard was small but very deep, and in the obscure light seemed at first to contain nothing except a small heap of dust and cobwebs. His sense of disappointment was keen as he thrust his hand into it but changed again in a moment to breathless interest on feeling something solid in what he had imagined being only an accumulation of mould and dirt. He snatched up a candle, and holding this in one hand, with the other pulled out an object from the cupboard and put it on the table, covered as it was with the curious drapery of black and clinging cobwebs which I have seen adhering to bottles of old wine. It lay there between the dish of fruit and the decanter, veiled indeed with thick dust as with a mantle, but revealing beneath it the shape and contour of a violin.
John was excited at his discovery and felt his thoughts confused. Yet at the same time, he was half-amused at his own excitement, feeling that it was childish to be moved over an event so simple as the finding of a violin in an old cupboard. He soon collected himself and took up the instrument, using great care, as he feared lest age should have rendered the wood brittle or rotten. With some vigorous puffs of breath and a little dusting with a handkerchief, he removed the heavy outer coating of cobwebs and began to see more clearly the delicate curves of the body and the scroll. A few minutes more gentle handling left the instrument sufficiently clean to enable him to appreciate its chief points. Its seclusion from the outer world, which the heavy accumulation of dust proved to have been for many years, did not seem to have damaged it in the least; and the fact of a chimney-flue passing through the wall at no great distance had no doubt conduced to maintain the air in the cupboard at an equable temperature. So far as he was able to judge, the wood was as sound as when it left the maker’s hands; but the strings were, of course, broken, and curled up in little tangled knots. The body was of a light-red colour, with a varnish of peculiar lustre and softness. The neck seemed rather longer than ordinary, and the scroll was remarkably bold and free.
The violin which John was in the habit of using was a good make –a Pressenda, given to him on his fifteenth birthday by Mr Thoresby, his guardian. It was of that maker’s later and best period, and a copy of the Stradivarius model. John took this from its case and laid it side by side with his discovery, meaning to compare them for size and form. He perceived at once that while the model of both was identical, the superiority of the older violin in every detail was so marked as to convince him that it was undoubtedly an instrument of exceptional value. The extreme beauty of its varnish impressed him vividly. Though he had never seen a genuine Stradivarius, he felt a conviction gradually gaining on him that he stood in the presence of a masterpiece of that great maker. On looking into the interior, he found that surprisingly little dust had penetrated it, and by blowing through the sound-holes, he soon cleared it sufficiently to enable him to discern a label. He put
the candle close to him and held the violin up so that a little patch of light fell through the sound-hole on to the label. His heart leapt with a violent pulsation as he read the characters, “Antonius Stradivarius Cremonensis faciebat, 1704.” Under ordinary circumstances, it would naturally be concluded that such a label was a forgery. Still, the conditions were entirely altered in the case of a violin found in a forgotten cupboard, with proof so evident of its having remained there for a very long period.
From The Lost Stradivarius by J Meade Falkner
From 11+ paper from City of London School for Girls
What do you think happens next? Write the next part of the story.
DUDU:
John lifted the violin, carefully cradling the old model, as he eyed the stringed instrument. It would be a lot of money, but somehow, he felt that this violin was his, and he shouldn’t sell it. It felt like Antonius Stradivarius himself was watching him, waiting for his answer. It felt like he was being torn into two, between the temptation of wealth and his conscience. He traced the outline of the instrument, feeling the curve of the body and the spiralling scroll. He stroked the strings, testing the notes and feeling a fine powder on the cords. John inspected the varnish, marvelling the effect of the soft shine, seeming to make it glow with an unheavenly aura. But as well as the beauty of the old violin, he felt an icy sense of fear. He longed to run, but the elegance of the model stopped him. He felt anxious, but he wanted to stay, admire the grace of the instrument. But he only started to turn around when he heard his name being called several times.
He realized that the house temperature had dropped. He also noticed that he felt his shoulder going numb. No. His whole body was turning cold, the paralysis spreading from his shoulders to his ankle. He wanted to scream, but his mouth was frozen, his lips trying to form words. He stared at the violin, everything around it blurring until he could only see the violin. He stared at it for a long time until he felt it was staring back at him.
BAI:
Would he sell it? It would be worth millions, possibly even billions. But it was his. It couldn’t go. Suddenly, Mr Thoresby knocked on the door. “Hello. John, its time for dinner. Come out; it’s your favourite roast duck!”
This could not be possible. He had just found this new Stradivarius, and his guardian was calling him to dinner. Stuffing the Stradivarius back into the cupboard, John rushed out, pretending to be eager for duck, but really his mind was on the cupboard, and the fact that he could have a fortune in his fingertips. But his ruddy cheeks sold out everything. Mr Thorsby questioned, “Is there anything wrong, John.”
“Uh…” John hesitated whether to tell. “Nothing, sir. It’s just that I really like this roast duck.”
But his suspicious guardian knew this was not at all. The way his eyes twinkled; a mischievous grin sat on his face. This couldn’t possibly be right, in any way. “Alright. But what I wanted to tell you is that we are going to Australia for a holiday!”
John could only bring the Stradivarius. There was no other way for it. Suppose he left it at home, thieves. Well, that was after Mr Thorsby found out about the ancient violin and had reported the press. However, John had still refused to sell it. There was the headline, on every single newspaper of the country: Boy Finds Ancient Stradivarius. But the bad news was that now every single person in the country had his or her eyes on the prize.
The day finally came. Violin in case, with a lock and a wristband connecting John and the Stradivarius. Clothes, everything. The combination for the lock was 503839284892, 12 digits which had to be entered without any pauses. There were only 10 chances so that you couldn’t guess it. The wristband was fingerprint-sensitive, with heat sensors inside, so only an alive and conscious man (which had to be John or his guardian) could open it. It was supposed to be foolproof. However, there is always something which can outsmart even the smartest defences, and if that involves a Cambridge IT professor who joined the evil side, fine. The case would open just in time, and the Strad would be stolen. The question was, who?
#Yao
John and his guardian drove to the airport first thing in the morning. No, that was what normal kids would say. Their driver had actually taken them. Right before John’s dad had died, he had left millions to his only son. His mother, well, he would rather stay quiet. And he was quiet, all the way until they began boarding the large plane. As Mr Thoresby seated himself into one of the seats in the first-class section, John couldn’t help but pipe out.
“Hey, uh, Mr Thoresby, how much does a violin cost?” John inquired.
“Depends. If you got an antique, you could find yourself at an auction walking away with thousands of dollars. If it’s just a regular one made in the last thirty years, you got yourself forty dollar, tops,” he told John. John stayed quiet for a few hours. Soon, dinner, beef and noodles were served. But he had another question.
“What about a Stradivarius?” John asked. Mr Thoresby choked on his beef, and spit out a few pieces.
“Heck, you don’t have one do you, kid?” Mr Thoresby, wiping his face with his napkin. John quickly reached for an apple.
“Er. No. But just curious. How much?” he asked.
“Well, if you had a copy, you’d get at least a hundred bucks,” Mr Thoresby said.
“Well, what if you had a genuine one? One from, well, 1704?” John asked again. Mr Thoresby nearly choked on his baguette.
“1-7-0-4? Well, sonny, nice dreams you have. That could give you a profit of around 10 million dollars,” Mr Thoresby said.
“10 MILLION POUNDS?!” John repeated.
“Dollars. 7 1/2 million pounds,” Mr Thoresby corrected. Mr Thoresby was American, and he had a speciality for financing.
John sipped his water. For the rest of the flight, he watched some movie that was anime. Then, they were in Australia.
“G’day ol’ mate! See you got a wave-ridin’ young laddie comin’ along!” a man cried out to us as we stepped off the plane. The man and Mr Thoresby shook hands, and John just stared at the two.
“John, this is Mr Sunny, more commonly known as Surfboard. He’s an old friend of mine, and we’ll stay at his vacant beach house. Nice, huh? Surfermotologist, this is John. He’s 16 years old and quite bright. He doesn’t like sharks much, though,” Mr Thoresby said.
Mr Sunny shook my hand. I was confused, though. We weren’t staying a five-star hotel with a spa and walled in TVs and movie theatres? We were staying at a dinky beach house?
When I first got a look at the beach house, it was alright. It was two floors, with two nice bedrooms, a bathroom in my room, and a bathroom next to the hall. There was a kitchen, a living room with a large TV, and a rec room that was part of the large living room. There were also a few video game consoles, along with a playing device. But as Surfboard welcomed us in, I noticed him staring at my suitcase. At the right spot where my rare, 10 million dollar worth, 1704 genuine Stradivarius stood. I kept a close eye on the man. But after he left, we felt right at home. I played some first-person shooting games along with some fighter pilot simulators. Then, I got called to dinner by Mr Thoresby.
He had cooked up some lasagna that looked a bit burnt but was otherwise perfect.
“Uh, Mr Thoresby? I thought my dad had a total of 52,123,457. 23 pounds when he died. We can’t have already spent all that! Heck, we probably haven’t even gone through five or six million dollars yet! So why are we spending our vacation in a dinky old beach house instead of some super hotel skyscraper?” I asked.
Mr Thoresby put down his fork. He slowly chewed the pasta and sauce and cheese, and then gave me a serious look.
“You aren’t a young boy anymore, Johnathan, I ought to tell you the truth. When you were only two, your father died mysteriously. At least, mysteriously to the public. I knew why he had died. Your father once owned a wonderful genuine Stradivarius 1704 violin, made by Antonius Stradivarius himself. He never sold it. People soon discovered the man was hiding something valuable. Plots and conspiracies to kill your dear father for his precious object were made, and so, he killed himself. He had to do it. He told me to tell everybody he had died from his serious sickness, cancer. I did what he said. Right before he took his own life, he had looked me in the eye and said ‘Robert, you are an old friend of the family. I ask you not to be butler anymore but to become my John’s guardian. Protect him for the bad ones. And you must not tell him that the violin is hidden in a room. He must find it himself, and fortunes have told me he will find it at the age of 16.’ So I did what he said. But now, we are still not safe. People believe we have a precious object still, and they are after us. Nobody knows except the family and me that your father earned millions in his time. If we can show them we are just ordinary people, and they might let us off. That is why I didn’t want us to take the private jet. That is why, instead of going to the island your father owns, we have gone to Australia. That is why, instead of going to an expensive hotel, we went to a friend’s beach house. I know you have the violin. And you must, must, MUST NOT TELL ANYBODY, OR SHOW ANY CLUES, THAT WE HAVE THE STRADIVARIUS VIOLIN,” he told me. I took a minute to put all that information in my brain. And then, I yelled,
“LOOK OUT!”
A bang rocked the house. In our back doorway, stood a man in a black suit. Followed by another two men, all of whom had black guns.
“We know everything. Give us the violin. Or your life,” the man snarled, and he cocked his revolver. Mr Thoresby had no chance. But what the man didn’t see was me, reaching for the Browning Hi-Power pistol in the back of Mr Thoresby’s big pants. And what he certainly didn’t know was that I was about ready to kill. These men had forced my beloved father to die. And they were going to get blasted because of it.
DUDU:
My fingers closed around the pistol, and I pulled it out. The triggers and the buttons had an unfamiliar feeling to it. I felt enraged, the anger boiling inside me, and I lifted it and pulled a trigger.
The sound of the gunshot echoed around the house. I looked around, seeing red, and wanted there to be blood. There was none. I only saw a black rag of a jacket. I remember the feeling of the triumph, but also the sadness. I might have gone crazy. My heart was pounding heavily, and I felt the blood rushing around my body. Only then I realized that Mr Thoresby was calling for me. I turned around and blinked at him, and he sighed. And then I realized that the house was a mess. There was a black gunshot mark on the wall, and the silverware and furniture were upturned, and one of the bowls had been shattered. But then I saw the man in the black suit strolling back into his position.
I was filled with fury and rage. I felt Mr Thoresby futilely tugging on my sleeve. I glared at him and tore away from him, desperate to get to the man. But as I took my first step out, I heard a voice crying, “Fire!”
#Bai
The question was, could I really fire? Protecting Mr Thoresby and myself was important, but I could not just kill for it. I could not kill, could I? But I still felt a sense of duty, a sense that I needed to protect myself. I raised the Browning Hi-Power pistol once again and shot. A colour red blurred in front of my eyes. A shout of pain erupted through the beach house, and in that time, we all ran.
“Ok. I told you. We are in danger, in so much that right now, someone may have a plan to kill us, to get access to the Stradivarius. Right now, people are trying to find the violin. We have no time to lose. We must escape to another country.”
“But why couldn’t we just sell the violin?” Jonathan asked.
“Your father would not allow it. He said to me not to do it, not to.”
“Where will we escape?”
“That is simple. We will head towards the US. There, there are many people. We can easily blend in.”
“Have you packed. With clothes and other things above the Strad? Good.”
The day finally came. Violin in case, with a lock and a wristband connecting John and the Stradivarius. Clothes, everything. The combination for the lock was 503839284892, 12 digits which had to be entered without any pauses. There were only 10 chances so that you couldn’t guess it. The wristband was fingerprint-sensitive, with heat sensors inside, so only an alive and conscious man (which had to be John or his guardian) could open it. It was supposed to be foolproof. However, there is always something which can outsmart even the smartest defences, and if that involves a Cambridge IT professor who joined the evil side, fine. The case would open just in time, and the Strad would be stolen. The question was, who?
*** a few days earlier***
Look, the deal is 50-50. You find the violin, and you get $5,000,000. You don’t get it; I’m going to shoot you and dump you in the Thames.” Said Julia Rothman, the head of SCORPIA. SCORPIA stood for sabotage, corruption, Intelligence, and Assassination. This group of criminals were deadly and would take it as a personal insult if they weren’t on every countries list to find criminals. They met after World War Two; each country needed someone to spy for them. Each client would pay them many to execute an act of crime. And this time, they wanted the Stradivarius Violin. “So, the plan is… Doctor Three, you go and get that violin in the case into our hands. Mr Liebermann, you know what to do. Break into the case, get us the violin. Job done.”
***The day of the flight***
Is everything ready? Clothes, check. Everyday essentials, check. And most importantly, Stradivarius violin, check. John was ready to board the plane, ready to escape the daring thieves. Doctor Three was ready. Looking for a boy with black hair and a fair complexion. The suitcase was a pink one, with itluggage written on it. The case has a lock, just bring it here. However, there was one thing SCORPIA missed. There were two cases, one with John’s Pressenda. So, Doctor Three opened the case and took the Pressenda.
***A few minutes later***
Bang! The shot was fired, and later the police would find Doctor Three smothered in the M1 motorway. Doctor Three had failed, and SCORPIA was unforgiving. They took no chances. But was going to happen to the Strad Next?
DUDU:
As he heard the gunshot, John knew immediately that one of the violins had been stolen. He checked the cases, relaxing a bit when he saw that the Strad was still there, but when he checked on his Pressenda, he panicked. He knew that it had to be close but, also, SCORPIA’s employees were chosen for their skill and cunning. He knew that he could probably track the sound of the gunshot, but it may be too dangerous. He hadn’t the faintest clue of who fired it, but as he remembered the direction of where the gunshot sound was, probably near the M1—the place where all the cars were.
He knew that he had to go to the M1. But also he didn’t feel like sliding through gaps in between cars to get to the violin. He didn’t know what to do. Go with his conscience, or do the heroic thing. He chose to save his Pressenda. It was a family friend present, and he spent most of his life living with the Pressenda. But little did he know he was about to see a car run over his beloved violin.
He made his way to the M1, holding a feeling of anticipation in his chest. He saw a crowd and a mass of cars. He looked at the centre of the crowd and felt like something had slammed into him, causing him to fall, and crushing him. He felt all the air being forced out of him, the oxygen being driven out his lungs. It was like falling off a high tree, the feeling of your body making an impact with the ground. He felt like he was falling, and all his hope was washed away. In the middle of the crowd, was a flattened Doctor Three and a broken Pressenda.
He made his way to the middle of the crowd and stared at the violin. He thought that this was a nightmare, and he would wake up anytime soon. But that wasn’t the case.
He knelt, emotions surging around his body, and he felt a tear trickling down his face. He was only aware of the pain of the loss and the muted sounds of the crowd. The Pressenda was there, in pieces, and he saw a lone droplet fall onto the gauzy varnish. He stroked the pieces one last time, feeling the scroll and the smooth wood. But when he took back his hand, he saw a fat drop of blood.
#Yao
John screamed in pain, taking back his hand that had now been pierced by a sharp needle. And then, quiet.
“John! Johnny! Boy! Wake up!” a voice called to him. John woke up on a plane. A plane with black men carrying M4 carbines. And Mr Thoresby, with what looked like a dart.
Aha! That was what had hit him. The dart. And then, he recognized the dart. It was one of Scorpia’s most dangerous assassination darts. It pierced the skin on impact, and then the body of the dart would fall off. What remained was a long, black needle. The pain was horrifying, and the victim would be knocked out for 20-50 hours. The Pressenda had been put there on purpose, exactly where a sniper was. And then, John figured out they’re plan.
Scorpia had intended to get the Stradivarius that was worth millions, not the Pressenda that wasn’t worth a quarter as much, even though it was antique. The Pressenda had merely been bait. There plan had one foil. They hadn’t devised Plan B for when John went to find the Pressenda, not Mr Thoresby. They knew Mr Thoresby had the Strad, but they had expected Mr Thoresby to come. Then, they would knock him out with a dart, take the Strad, and then sell it for enough money to buy a hundred golden mansions. It looked like Mr Thoresby had added some bodyguards too. They were large, and each had sunglasses.
John lay there as he thought about his Pressenda. Both the Press and the Strad were valuable, but one was valuable in money, and one was valuable in love.
And then, a doctor came. He had on an operating mask and was carrying what looked like a knife. And also a few bottles of what seemed like a drug. He put a few droplets of the drug onto a towel, and then covered John’s nose with it. He instantly fell asleep.
After a peaceful sleep, he woke up to the smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He devoured the meal, and then managed to sit up in his crude hospital bed. The plane was flying very smoothly. And then, a message blared from the speakers above.
“We are approaching land. Please fasten your seatbelts.”
John took a last bite of pancakes with syrup and chocolate chips. He then strapped himself neatly into his seat. The plane suddenly swerved to a side, almost making John fly out of his seat. His leftover breakfast wasn’t so lucky. Orange juice and milk flew everywhere. A pancake landed straight on John’s forehead, and he ate it. Then, two pieces of bacon whirled right onto John’s hair! He smiled, but then a weird feeling came over him. Land? Mr Thoresby had said that they had to avoid Scorpia by living on a plane! Or, that was in John’s translation.
After a few minutes of flying eggs, twirling bacon, and frisbee pancakes, the plane finally stopped. A man in black just like the bodyguards motioned for him to come out. He noticed one more bodyguard. Both of them escorted him out of the plane.
When he stepped out of the plane, John gawked in surprise. This wasn’t land! This was an island! Trees were everywhere, sweet fruit growing on top of them. There were beautiful flowers and plants, along with a a three story cabin. There was an outhouse, and a lake with a boat! Who lived here?
“I see you’re surprised at the island, John. This was your father’s work!” Mr Thoresby said, appearing at John’s side.
“My father?” John asked.
“Oh yes. You see, your father bought this island a long time ago. Horrible, wretched island it was back then. Black, ashy trees from an oil rig nearby, horrible pollution. I urged your father to buy a nicer island, but he refused. And in ten years, he managed to renovate everything. In fact, he even paid the oil rig, which wasn’t doing so well with the government pollution laws either, 2,000,000 dollars!”
John breathed in the fresh air. That was the reason Mr Thoresby had brought the Strad here. If Scorpia tried to land their equipment on the private-owned land, they wouldn’t only have to deal with the guys in black, and they would have to deal with the law, too! They couldn’t trespass.
But wait. Wasn’t everything Scorpia did illegal? They assassinated people, and they spied on countries for another country, usually whichever offered more money. They had illegal guns, and most of their force was probably criminals.
John was sad and angry, both at the same time. Nothing could stop Scorpia.
Two hours later, a whole platoon of guys in black were patrolling the perimeter of the house, with a whole two platoons patrolling the perimeter of the island. A squad patrolled the beach, and a fireteam of four men patrolled the interior of the house. In total, there was around 170 men in black. In fact, Mr Thoresby had hired them all from a private but legal organization for anybody looking for bodyguards. Sure, the bill had been 25,000,000, but hey, you got a whole company of trained men with guns patrolling the Stad! At least, they would be patrolling it for five years. Then, they would leave. John had asked Mr Thoresby why they couldn’t just hire the men in black another time once the five years ran out.
He had looked upset. He explained to John that his father was wealthy. But he also didn’t have an infinite supply of money. They had used up more than half of the 50,123,542,234 dollars that his father had left them. Scorpia was a crime organization. It got paid millions by the countries who ordered them to spy, and even more from the countries that had told them to assassinate. All this, and expenses for when a member got injured while pleasing a client. If that wasn’t enough money, they also received daily money from many crime organizations around the world, mostly ones transporting illegal weapons. They would never run out.
What were John and Mr Thoresby to do once five years was up?
BAI:
***A few days after John arrived on the island***
“Sure.” Julia Rothman purred. “The Stradivarius is being guarded by 30 guards or even international agents. They know what to do. Won’t accept bribes. Controlled by that imbecile who has managed to destroy our plans. Anyway, I have a plan.”
“Assassinate one of the agents, replace and then steal the Stradivarius. Hunter and Cossack, go and do that. Guards will be around 8, and then patrol. Since Doctor Three has been smothered into the M1, I will order Mukai to fly the plane. He was drop you into the forest and get ready to kill.
***After being dropped into the forest***
There were all sorts of deadly creatures. They had been lucky. Very. They kept moving, and Hunter kept leaving pins in the forest. It was impossible to see, but with Hunter’s eyes, well, that seemed less impossible. “Check the security.”
“Looks poor.”
“Good”
With one hand, Cossack pulled out an American M39 Enhanced Marksman Rifle, loaded with 10 7.62*51mm NATO bullets loaded. It was the heaviest of their items with water purification tablets and even just a simple book. Well, that was what it looked like. It was actually a deadly weapon. Built into the spine was a dart with cobra poison, but a deadlier version. Speaking of deadly creatures, a black widow climbed onto Hunter’s shoulder. He couldn’t shout. The spider would bite him. He couldn’t move. The spider would bite him.
“Bloody Hell. A black widow?” Cossack almost shrieked.
There was no time. The guards would switch positions soon, which would mean no time to shoot. And he would be part of the A406. Aiming behind the widow, he shot a bullet, gliding through the widow into one of the guard’s heart. The shot had left nothing but a trace of blood on Hunter’s shoulder.
“I’ll never forget this, my friend.”
“Don’t worry. Let’s get out of here before they start counting debts, should we?”
***Back at Scorpia’s HQ***
“Good. So, I am going to place Group 2, Unit 8 and number 593 into the compound.”
“Yes, Mrs Rothman”
“Good. I’m going to get the Strad in. Wear this Latex. Got his fingerprints. Passport here. If anyone asks you any questions, just read the files that I will give you. Got it?”
“Yep. I’ll be on my way.”
Group 2, Unit 8 and number 593 was dropped into the compound, and he knew what to do. He was completely normal in here and soon got used to the routine. Breakfast for the ‘imbeciles who own the violin’ was at 8. And then 5 guards would each of the two people. They had two meals, one at 11, and one at 6. Only 30 mins to eat. So, how was he going to get his hands on the Strad?
DUDU:
John was still sleeping, but not for long. He heard a scream and a bang, and he was about to shout for Mr Thoresby, but then a gloved hand closed his mouth and then everything went black.
He woke up in cold darkness. He reached up, but his arm didn’t move. He was aware of dizziness in his head like he had been drugged, but he was determined. He moved it ever so slightly, but then he passed out.
John knew that he was in SCORPIA’s HQ, but it felt different to the unwelcoming attitude of their workers. He was in a room, resembling a hospital in the sanitary level and the colour. He felt same vertigo but was more satisfied than last time. He was then conscious of his dry mouth and the empty feeling of hunger in his stomach. Then he heard a sharp rap on the room door. He allowed the individual in, and almost fainted at the sight of him. His dad, flawless and genuine, stepped into the room.
He went pale, his voice disappearing. His throat closed up, and he choked. His father held up a hand and John grabbed hold of it, and was surprised at the coolness of the palm. But he was heartbroken when he said: “Get ready to die… son.”
And at that exact moment, as if on cue, John’s vision went black, and all he could hear was an echoing voice saying death…
He saw his life flashing before his mind’s eye, his childhood, his time as a teenager. He remembered everything, all the small details and the big events. He remembered the sad and happy moments of his life like he was living it again; he remembered all the forgettable memories. And then he remembered that his father wasn’t himself when he died. He was crazy and talking about death. He then committed suicide, drowning himself in the river. Then all his memories from then were empty, full of longing. But it broke John’s heart to see his father in this state.
#Yao
Bai, I’m sorry if this sounds weird, but have you read the book The Girl Who Owned a City?
Just a dream. Just a dream. The words echoed through John’s mind as he sat poking at his omelet. Three guards were outside with Ar-15s. One was guarding the door, a dart pistol and Uzi hidden underneath his black suits. The horrible dream. Now, he was trying to laugh it out, how his father was of course dead and not working for Scorpia. As he drank his orange juice, he thought he heard something rustling in the bushes, so he alerted one of the men in black. The man quickly asked the cook to investigate. John was astonished. The cook? What was he going to do, whack away with his spatula? But then the cook came, and he put on dark glasses.
“John boy, did I mention I was a Green Beret twelve years ago?”
John shook his head. The cook pulled out of his white suit a shiny Walther, and then took a Heckler and Koch MP5 in the other hand. He slowly approached the window of the room John was in. Then, he saw something. He stood absolutely still and raised his Walther, which was the one he could control with one hand.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
And then:
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
John could not figure out who was shooting. He saw flashes of gunfire from his room, and saw the emptied cartridges lying on the ground, some small, some big.
And then, he saw one of the black men hand him a Winchester 1897 shotgun.
“Save it! There’s only ten shells, five’s the capacity!” one of the black men yelled. John took the gun and the extra five shells. He stuffed the extra projectiles into his pocket and quickly slid back the shotgun loading system. He pointed it out the window, but then pulled it back. What was he thinking?
More shots ran out, and John quickly sprinted out the door. Mr Thoresby, armed with a Thompson SMG, greeting John.
“Come. We have to go!” Mr Thoresby cried.
He pulled John towards what looked like a large landing helicopter. There, soldiers in black hurriedly fired machine guns towards the advancing Scorpia infantry. The Scorpia members even had a tank with them.
“Mr Thoresby loaded all of the belongings into the helicopter. Get in, boy!” a sergeant yelled, his black clothes swishing beside him. He turned around and fired a last burst at the incoming infantry. Then, the copter began soaring into the sky.
Quickly, a large hook was grappled into the helicopter. Then, more hooks swished about.
The major in charge groaned.
“Give orders to the pilot to make sure the other four planes are okay. Then, try to get these damn hooks off! Scorpia’s trying to pull us down!”
But that wasn’t it. Scorpia infantrymen soon began climbing the ropes, taking their guns and knives with them by attaching them to their bodies and then making a long and hard climb. But the attack was very strategical. Now, men from Scorpia were hijacking the helicopters, and soon, John and Mr Thoresby would be going down. After that, the Strad was Scorpia’s.
The attack, however, had one weak point. Scorpia hadn’t planned for their to be almost 100 soldiers in each plane. John’s father had also made Brig. General Baton George one of John’s protectors in his will. When they were both young, they had been lieutenants in the army.
After hearing Scorpia was going to attack John and his primary guardian, Mr Thoresby, thanks to his code hackers, George had sent four hundred troops of the 45st Air Tanks Battalion. They had linked up with the remaining two platoons, each of 40 men, and managed to get everybody on large transport helicopters. As for the rest, well, I think we will be able to get that from John’s diary.
Dear Journal,
When Scorpia infantry tried to shoot everybody in the plane, they found themselves at the battle hardened veterans of the long feared 45st “Rough Toughers” battalion. Scorpia had only sent around fifty men on the ropes, and so they were outnumbered 1 to 2. Swords and knives clashed while SMGs fired short bursts of bullets into the enemy’s ranks. I just hid underneath some large and heavy ammo packages. But then, a Scorpia member noticed me. Pulling back the bolt of his G3 Heckler and Koch select fire automatic battle rifle, he prepared to kill me. But as I said my prayers in a second, I realized my anger.
Who was Scorpia to tell me what to do and when to die? If I was to die, at least I should make some blood flow. That led to me remembering I had pulled the pump of my shotgun and it was ready to fire. That led to me thinking about shooting the gun.
Two seconds later, the man with the G3 gun was dead, on the ground, with one shell pumped into his chest.
It felt good to let the people I hated get it.
I pumped the gun again, and aimed it at an officer.
BAM!
He was dead on the ground, his head blown to smithereens.
Mr Thoresby was making out pretty good. I never really knew he once actually was in the special ops. But his fighting told me all. He was able to hold off ten soldiers with just a knife and a Beretta 9mm pistol. Stabbing and shooting, he eventually made his way to the leader of the two platoons, a man I would later know as Captain Scarface, his real name unknown. He had a piece of metal for a heart and didn’t care whether his men got blown or blew people up. But he did care about something, that battle. He cared about killing Mr Thoresby and getting the Strad, my beloved possession. But he never got away with it. While he was cutting the throats of one soldier, he never noticed my guardian sneaking up beside him. A quick two bursts into the head and a dice to the stomach finished the evil man.
#Bai
@yao, but how does this have to do with the story? (P.S. I have never read it before)
Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello.
A deadly virus has swept the world, killing off everyone over the age of twelve in the span of a month or so.[3] In the town of Glen Ellyn, Illinois, outside of Chicago, ten-year-old Lisa Nelson and her younger brother Todd Nelson are surviving, like all the children in the story, by looting abandoned houses and shops. Although there are abandoned cars in every driveway and lining every street, Lisa is the first child to think of driving one. She is also the first to think of raiding a farm, and the first to look at the dwindling supplies in stores and deduce that groceries come from warehouses. She finds a supermarket warehouse and raids it, enlisting the help of Craig Bergman, a neighbour boy two years older than her, but makes clear to him and all the other children in her neighbourhood that the entire warehouse and all its contents are her exclusive property, not to be shared unless she chooses: she assures them all that she will burn the warehouse and everything in it rather than be forced to share against her will.
She considers relocating to the farm, but decides against it because it is difficult to defend (other children are starting to form gangs) and because “planning and getting the world back to the way it was, with schools, and hospitals, and electricity” are much more “exciting” than “hiding away on a farm … digging in the dirt all day”.
Lisa and her friends are approached by the “Chidester Gang”, led by Tom Logan. Suspecting that Lisa has a source of supplies, Logan offers a food-for-protection deal, which Lisa declines. Unhesitatingly taking charge, she forms her block-long stretch of Grand Avenue into a militia, armed with guns, Molotov cocktails, and primitive weapons. When the militia proves unsuccessful at defending the “Land of Grandville” against “the fearful and cruel army of Chidester and Elm”, and Lisa’s house is lost, Lisa comes up with the idea of moving the “child-families”—and the entire contents of the warehouse—into the local high school, and transforming it into a fortress-city. Within the city, Lisa is the only authority, because she saw the abandoned high school and thought of moving there: this has earned her sole title to the “City of Glenbard” and everything in it.
A year after completion, things proceed according to plan until Logan and his gang manage to stage a successful attack on Glenbard, during which Lisa is shot in the arm. Todd and Lisa’s friend Jill rescue her, and Jill performs basic surgery to remove the bullet from her arm, dosing her with whiskey for pain relief. When Lisa recovers, they retake the city from Logan, who has meanwhile learned that conqueror and leader are two very different things. Glenbard’s “citizens” have shown no sign of rebellion, or of preferring Lisa’s leadership to Logan’s (or vice versa), but Lisa lectures him into relinquishing control of the city to her.
The book ends with a foreshadowing that the citizens of Glenbard will at some time be forced to face far larger armies, led by now extremely powerful dictators, tyrants and warlords. If any semblance of a free society is to exist in the new world, the citizens of Glenbard must make themselves capable of protecting and growing it by gaining in knowledge, power, and organization, and at the same time continuing to incorporate leadership and respect for the person into their society.
Source – Wikipedia
Julia Rothman sighed. Her SCORPIA agents were really losing their touch. Not be able even to gain a Stradivarius Violin made her extremely furious. SCORPIA were supposed to be the king of crime, the head of every single deal, every single kill. But they were being defeated but defeated by a fourteen-year-old boy. How? How? With a burst of fury, she found that she would no longer play silly ploys. No, they were terrible. She would send in all her men, all of them, just to get her Strad. It was her last card, and she had tried to play her last card – hoping it would work like a joker against an ace. “The whole of SCORPIA, stand up.”
The whole of SCORPIA did so. “Alright. So, I want every single man who is standing up right now to join the battle with the Stradivarius. Now, go, go, go, go, go.” Every man hurried up, grabbed their guns (each had a AO-63 assault rifle, created by illegal company TsNIITochMash and loaded them with 5.45*39mm NATO bullets, ready for attack. Quick reload, easy to shoot and with two barrels, this machine was perfect.) All of them had their plans in mind. Just rush in, shoot everyone – they would be able to take down everyone ten to one. Mr Loco, Julia Rothman’s second in command would take the Strad personally. There was no way for failure.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Mr Thoresby was also planning. Hire 10,000 more guards for just one battle would only cost them 100,000 from very cheap government service – they had heard of the Strad John owned and had known they would have to protect it. Soon, the attack had started. It was the most fierce battle ever.
The first wave of the around 100,000 men from SCORPIA came in, and most were shocked. Julia Rothman said they were going to have 10,000 men maximum; how did they have 100,000? The attack was fierce – Mr Thoresby’s side had Polish Brownings created by Państwowa Fabryka Karabinów, with 7.92*57mm Mauser bullets. Each man took another, and each men’s private battle often ended with both dying – both were shot in the heart. Both John and Mr Thoresby shot out from the safety of the house, often killing more than 10 men at once. However, the more SCORPIA men came in, and there could not be many attacks left. SCORPIA’s firepower was down, and it could not get up again.
But another company, the SNAKEHEAD, were plotting.
DUDU
(Why was there a Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello?)
In SNAKEHEAD, a plan was brewing. No-one knew that there was another organization was as cunning and sly as SCORPIA. SCORPIA prided themselves as the most intelligent illegal society. But, they were about to take on their match to match opponent. Unlike SCORPIA, SNAKEHEAD
a group of elite women, chosen for their sharp minds and their nimbleness. They had no genuine leader, as they had a council instead, the most intelligent women who were elected by the others. They were quick to dart out of a problem, as smooth as the animal their community was named after. But, seeing that they were a twin of SCORPIA, it was unlikely that they would succeed in their task.
SNAKEHEAD wasn’t used to failure, and the sense of loss would be new. Whereas SCORPIA were experiencing defeat, and their leader was helpless. But maybe SNAKEHEAD would win, as the two were slightly different. But the Strad was safe for another decade…
The plan was flawless, but there was space for a small margin of error. It was beautiful, the cold hardness of the plan. But what if the margin of error took over?
The plan took place at dawn, the faultless concoction of ideas and plots. Everyone was included, but the scheme was useless if just one individual was absent. But the complicated project had more errors than that. SNAKEHEAD had a great plan, but not good enough. Group 7, Unit 2, Category 3 went in but never came out. And then they were cornered.
But that was a distraction, child’s play to them. According to the original ploy, Group 4, Unit 6, Category 5 should be going into the security room and getting the Strad. But a minute later, they were sent back, gun to their throats, and security men dragging them along. But as they were about to deliver the killing blow, An individual, Number 593 to be exact, took off her mask to reveal the face of John’s mother.
#Yao
What do you mean by Polish Browning? There a lot of browning pistols made in Poland. Lots. so please be more specific. :-<
John wished he was anonymous. He wished he could make himself transform into an anthology book. He wished he was making a simple conjecture, and that this was not his normal disposition. He wished he could encompass his father into his life, and that he could extricate himself from this spiral of death. He wished he could go back two generations. He would even trade himself for a guile, lying man if he could get out of this situation. He tried to instil the thought his own mother was in SNAKEHEAD. He tried to modify it, but that was impossible. But then he realized the truth. The woman with the face of his mother was not his mother.
He remembered that fateful day, many years ago, when his mother had died of cancer. He was just two years old. But they had been to her funeral. He pumped his shotgun, and fired it straight into the woman’s face. The mask slid off her face like ice. Then, he watched as the SNAKEHEAD members were executed with quick shots to the chest. Then, they were finally evacuated off the island.
In two days, John was sipping a coconut drink while tanning under a beautiful Pacific sun. Turned out his father had bought a total of eleven islands in the Pacific. That would give them at least eleven years to hold off SNAKEHEAD AND SCORPIA. While they were traveling, they met along with two companies that had been told to guard John and Mr Thoresby. Courtesy of Baton George.
The total of five hundred men overwhelmed John. There was just enough space for five hundred soldiers, a large army barracks and camp, a beach, a small rainforest, and medium-sized mansion along with an extra pool. The five hundred soldiers each had an M4 carbine and Beretta pistol. Along with at least ten heavy machine guns and twenty light ones. And thirty artillery pieces. Along with ten anti aircraft guns. Not to mention the ten light tanks. John sometimes wondered if the island was lifting weights, because it could hold all that. Not to mention the fact that five hundred soldiers training every day ate lots of food. Meat, eggs, beans, bread, noodles. There was only four cooks. They had to prepare meals for five hundred soldiers, one hundred guard dogs, John, Mr Thoresby, themselves, and the twenty servants.
Mr Thoresby managed to get everyone on a fish and seafood diet. Plus, he had limited every soldier’s meal to two large meals a day, but they were to be each given at least five fish and a piece of meat each day. John thought that the soldiers would hate fish, as he did. In fact, the cooks had to prepare a special dish of mac and cheese, sausage, and beans cooked on bread for John each day. But the soldiers loved it. They gobbled each bite down. Most of them had been in Afghanistan before, and most had eaten slugs and beetles in that time. They also had the wonderful benefit of not having the ability to light a fire, so they mostly ate the insects raw.
The soldiers practiced drills every day, and so gunshots ran out from the camp, along with yelling, punching, crashing, and barking. John couldn’t believe that he actually could enjoy himself. He took another sip.
Quickly, he spotted something nearing the beach. Oh no. It was a submarine, a tiny one, but it looked a recon one, made to spy on enemies. That would be SCORPIA’s. How? SCORPIA was the only illegal corporation to have army submarines since they usually bribed poor countries for their submarines. SNAKEHEAD, although dirty, still had a strict code of not stealing from neighboring countries. The submarine was nearing the beach.
If the submarine managed to gather intelligence, the fight wouldn’t go as well as the last one. Scorpia would know there were five hundred soldiers, and they would send two thousand. So John quickly ran down the stairs. Without even saying a word to Butler Jerome, he grabbed a Panzerfaust and a bazooka. He then took two extra rounds for each of them, in case he missed. He only had four attempts. Running down to the beach, he aimed the Panzerfaust at the submarine.
BAM!
The blowback rushed John to his side. The shell grazed the submarine, and created two small dents, and soon, water was coming in, painfully slowly. But it wasn’t enough to sink the submarine. Ramming a second shell into the Panzerfaust, he aimed again. But he slipped and the shell went straight into a tree destroying the poor and wretched thing. John quickly snatched the bazooka. He aimed, and fired. The bazooka was easy to fire. The shell rammed straight into the submarine. But he thought he saw a camera move out. He quickly put in another shell. Aiming for a submarine was one thing, aiming for a tiny camera was another! He wished he had brought an extra six-barreled grenade launcher. He took careful aim, and pressed the trigger.
Wham!
The shell went straight into the camera, and it exploded. Water was now seeping in large amounts, and the sub sank to the bottom of the ocean.
John wiped his brow. Phew. They could rest in peace once again.
BARK! BAM! KRACK! KI-KRAC! HUT-TUT-TUT-TUT! MOVE IT! BAM! KA WHAM! BANG BANG BANG!
Or, on second thoughts, he probably wouldn’t.
#Bai
@dudu. The Hello, Hello, … was to get the perfect number of words to a palindrome. Couldn’t think of anything else.
@yao. Bro, Wikipedia just says it’s a Browning and Polish. Well, the real name is Browning wz. 1928
Just asking, have you read Public Enemy Number Two by Anthony Horowitz?
After being kept behind in detention by his unpleasant French teacher, Mr Palis, Nicholas Simple (also known as “Nick Diamond”) is visited by Chief Inspector Snape of Scotland Yard and his assistant, Boyle. They ask Nick if he would like to go to Strangeday Hall, an institution for criminals aged under 18, and befriend inmate Johnny Powers, a gang leader known as “Public Enemy Number One” following his recent conviction and 15-year prison sentence for armed robbery. They want Nick to find out the true identity of an unknown master criminal who controls all the buying and selling of stolen goods in London, known only as “the Fence”. Nick refuses their offer and the police leave.
Soon afterwards, Nick visits Woburn Abbey on a school trip, but is framed for attempting to steal the Woburn Carbuncles, and despite his attempts to evade police, is arrested and sentenced to 18 months at Strangeday Hall. He has to share a cell with Johnny Powers – just as Snape and Boyle wanted, and no doubt arranged, to happen. Soon after he arrives, Snape and Boyle visit Nick and reveal that they arranged to have Nick framed. Nick manages to gain Johnny’s trust after he saves Johnny from being killed by three followers of a notorious London gangster known as Big Ed.
Nick and Johnny soon escape Strangeday Hall with the help of Tim Diamond, Nick’s brother (an unsuccessful private detective), and Ma Powers, Johnny’s mother. They are pursued by the police but manage to escape. However, during the chase, Snape and Boyle appear and their car crashes and explodes, leaving Nick convinced that they are both dead and that he’s the only person alive who knows he’s innocent. Nick and Tim stay at Johnny’s hideout in Wapping for a while, until Nick overhears Johnny telling Ma that he is going to see “Penelope”. Believing Penelope to be the Fence, Nick follows Johnny into the Wapping tube station but loses him there. After making his way out onto the street, he is then captured by henchmen of Big Ed, who later tie him to a train track, intending for him to be killed by a train.
Nick is rescued by a man who cuts him free from the tracks just before the train passes. Nick knows that he had seen that man before, but doesn’t know where, and the man has quickly disappeared. To prove his loyalty to Johnny, and take revenge on Ed, Nick burns the railway carriage which is their hide-out, by emptying an oil drum and starting a fire. Nick decides that he must go back to Johnny and Tim, but he is still determined to find the Fence, in the hope of being able to barter his freedom. Nick realises that Palis, his French teacher, could have seen Snape and Boyle on the afternoon that he was serving a detention. He heads for Palis’s flat in Chelsea but is nearly caught by the police there; they had spotted him in a nearby street. Palis saves him, and Nick explains his mission to him. He stays the night at Palis’s flat. Palis drives Nick back to Wapping the following morning and tells him to get in touch if he needs anything. At the hideout, Nick sees a doorbell. Not recalling one, he enters the house through the back and rescues Tim from a bomb rigged to go off if the newly installed bell had been rung.
Tim then explains that Johnny had come back the previous afternoon from wherever he had been to find Nick gone. They hadn’t liked his answers, and during the night Johnny dragged Tim out of bed and tied him up before rigging the bomb. Nick and Tim discover that “Penelope” is actually a boat, and decide to keep a watch on the Penelope from a nearby derelict house. After seeing men storing objects aboard the Penelope, Nick remembers that Johnny went to “Penelope” through Wapping Tube Station. Nick and Tim go there and discover a secret entrance to a tunnel, which Johnny lost Nick through. The tunnel leads under the River Thames to the Fence’s hideout where the brothers see many valuable stolen articles.
They then encounter Nails Nathan, and Johnny appears on the scene, aware that Nick is working for the police. He ties them up and locks them in a room, but they soon escape. Nick has brought the bomb with him in his backpack, and uses it to destroy the door to the room they are locked in. On their way out, Johnny re-appears and is ready to shoot Nick and Tim, but they are stopped by Snape and a group of armed policemen, who have been tracking Nick through the tracking device in his prison shoes since he escaped. Snape, who survived the crash uninjured (and had also rescued Nick when he was tied to the railway track), is intent on arresting Powers and his gang, but the roof of the underground den collapses. Ultimately, Nick and Tim survive, Ma Powers is arrested. However, Johnny and Nails Nathan escape, while the Fence is still nowhere to be seen and there is still no clue to his or her true identity, although the Fence’s operation is destroyed. Nick is subsequently cleared of all charges.
After Nick returns to school, he is sitting in a French lesson when Palis instructs Nick to translate a French paragraph. While doing so, Nick realises from the message he reads that Palis is the Fence, and that Palis had told Johnny Powers that he had been working for the police. At the end of the lesson, Palis announces to the class that he is leaving the school. He dismisses the whole class except Nick, who realises that Palis wants to kill him. Palis chases Nick to the school’s roof with a gun, but wastes all his bullets trying to kill him. Palis attempts to plough into Nick, but falls over the side of the building, and dies when he impales himself on a fence. With Palis dead, the story ends with Nick’s troubles over.
Well, it wasn’t as calm as he thought it was. As, submarines from SCORPIA arrived for their last battle, so, did the SNAKEHEAD. Both looking for the Stradivarius. It seemed as if there was no end to this battle. Snakehead were carrying M24 Sniper Rifles, manufactured by their very affable company, Remington Arms. Each of them had 500 7.62*51mm NATO bullets. And that was when the firing began.
It had been the fiercest battle yet, both sides desperate to take the Strad. The jungle almost snapped, the fact that 50 men just trudged through the jungle, ready to be signalled for an attack. As soon as what looked like 200 men arrived, the fifty men joined them. Five of them walked straight to the house. Knocking John out with a handkerchief, drugged with a liquid (@yao, I’m pretty sure you read The Mysterious Benedict Society, Ten Men/Recruiter), which knocked him straight out. When he woke, under him there was a mickey mouse alarm clock, connected to 20kg of uranium. It would blow him dead out. As his ferocious headache raged on harder, SNAKEHEAD gagged him up, tied his hands together and placed a gun under his chest, knowing that as soon as he moved, he would be shot.
“Since you won’t tell us where the Stradivarius is, we’ll leave you to die.”
“Um ummmm, ummm. [This meant that he would tell the SNAKEHEAD where the Strad was. Somehow, the agent understood him.]”
“Really? Ok, then, I’ll trust you.” The gullible lady somehow trusted him. Untying his arms and allowing him to speak, John just screamed at her. The shocked lady took a step back, just for John to grab the rifle tied next to him and shoot it at the woman’s heart. She collapsed to the ground. Taking her M24 Sniper Rifle, he rushed back into the action, throwing the bomb into the ocean. 3, 2, 1, Boom! A tsunami washed over SCORPIA, who just came onto shore, devastating them all. But SNAKEHEAD had other plans. They had a Salamander, an amphibious vehicle (@yao, you’ll now this as well, Mr. Curtain’s special machine.) But that wasn’t the most ferocious. The head of SNAKEHEAD also ran another criminal gang, involving people such as Ten Men, (named because they had ten ways of hurting you, carried in briefcases. These Ten Men looked just like ordinary business people but weren’t. Shock watches (two of them), poisonous chewing gum, extra sharp pencils, calculator bombs, laser pointers, you name it.
“Oh, no.” whispered John, apprehensively.
DUDU
John watched as the action unfolded around him. He watched all the gunshots whistling through the air, cutting through the atmosphere, and hitting the intended target. It came from both sides, each vying for the other’s blood. They were all going to kill themselves, their dreams all dashed to dust. There would be no winner, just family and friends mourning for their loss. He was just one individual, a teen, not even a fully grown man. He was utterly helpless, and he felt like a black hole was sucking up all his feelings, leaving only one feeling: hope. He knew he could help somehow, but he didn’t know. He thought hard, but then he thought of one idea. It might get him killed, but one life was better than millions. But that one life was John.
He scrambled up a rock in the middle of the bedlam. It felt unsteady… as if it would fall at any moment. But he shouted one word that made everyone stop and stare at him. One word that everyone had said once at least. But until he saw Mr Thoresby and his shocked face, he knew that he had done something that he shouldn’t have. But he didn’t realise that he was feeling the same paralysis as he had many days ago.
He then felt it like the shock of cold water: the numbness, and the pain. Everything blurred, and he saw no more. He was aware of the mass staring at him. He only saw mixed colours and white patches. But then he saw a wisp of smoke, but there was no fire, but he felt the mysterious wisp and felt an icy coldness. Then his vision cleared, but he still saw everything with a greyish pearly tint. Then he felt himself choking.
Yao
This is from John’s diary:
I abhorred my decision. SCORPIA and SNAKEHEAD both were cruel and vicious, not affable. But I could tell something was amiss. So I had climbed onto the large rock, and yelled loudly. But now, I was despondent as a SCORPIA infantry member slowly choked me. Bu then, I heard an irascible cry of fear. Weird. SNAKEHEAD or SCORPIA both never every cried in fear. Maybe anger, but never fear.
It was tough to believe it, but then, we saw them. Large, mutant dogs that looked like they came from another planet. Slobbering, they towered over SCORPIA and SNAKEHEAD. My assailant slowly watched as the dogs grabbed everybody that was trying to kill us, and soon, people were rushing around, trying to find cover from the large and hungry dogs that had come onto the island. But how had they come? That was a question I pondered long and hard about. The next day, I got my answer.
I was sitting by a large, shady tree, reading a wonderful novel about whale hunting until a noise woke me up from my wonderful, deep, and mystified world of reading. I was startled. I reached into my hidden holster and pulled out my Ruger SR22 pistol. I didn’t feel like killing, but if I had to, I would. Leaves rustled, and then, a large black dog appeared. It was just like the one yesterday! I slid back the slide of my pistol, aiming it. But the dog didn’t attack. It was asking for food. I gave it some leftover macaroni and chips, then returned to my novel. Two minutes later, he was trying to get my attention. I groaned. Setting the pistol down, I slowly walked towards the mangy mutt. But this time, he seemed much bigger.
Huh? I remembered the dog being just the size of a regular mutt. Now, he was my size! Hmm. I fed him some more chips. He doubled again in size. I began feeding him all my leftovers from the lunch I just had. I then gave him the piece of grilled fish cook had gave me for energy. WHY CAN’T COOK REMEMBER I HATE FISH??
The dog was now as big as a tank. His teeth were each as long as a pistol. He barked in what seemed like a primitive tongue, then waddled away. I was relieved. I dug into some leftovers myself, and then returned to my wonderful novel before I met once again with the dog.
No, dogs. There were a ton! And from the look of it, they were all tiny, and wanted food. It seemed like the growth factor was only temporary, and after a day passed, they needed more food. I dumped them with all my leftovers, then ran and grabbed a sack full of sardines, tuna, salmon, and biscuits. My least favorite foods. I poured the sack into a large bowl, and left it out. I returned to my novel.
I though it would take them a while to eat a large sack of fish and crackers, but I was wrong. They gobbled it all up in two bites, each. I sighed. My novel would have to wait. Tucking the book into my sweater, I slowly motioned for the now giant dogs to come near my house. I wanted to show them to Mr Thoresby. They looked like great bodyguards. All they needed for payment was two salmon, four tunas, and five salmons, along with the usual fifty biscuits to tide them up. There were about twenty of them. I then realized that they were all actually the size of the house, and couldn’t possibly go in it. I went inside, and persuaded Mr Thoresby to ignore the “exciting” book. If you must know, it was:
The Fascinating Stories of Socrates and his Thoughts, A Complete Guide for the Intermediate Thinker and Strategist, and the Extra Paradoxes for the Advanced and Immersed Reader, A Complex Puzzle Anthology, And the Mysteries of Life that Surround our Lives, According to Socrates, And the Eluding Suspiciousness and Ideas of his Unthinkable Death By Suicide, By Poison.
Whoo-hoo.
I dragged him outside, where the dogs were all waiting. He gasped.
“Could we keep them? They’re great bodyguards, and also don’t eat much. Well, they do have to eat to grow, but the twenty of them only need a sack of fish and some biscuits to tide them all off. That’s it!” I told him.
Mr Thoresby thought for a moment.
“Well, we pay around one hundred fifty dollars for their homes. We also have to include the cook. We also have to pay him a regular fifty dollars a day, plus any costs, and any extra work required. If we take these pups in, we’ll have around two hundred fish a day to catch, plus the army, add us, and the total salary of cook is around two fifty dollars a day. But if these dogs are proficient enough to guard us, they’ll take in blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Okay, the profit is worth it. Come along, dogs? Wait, where will you go?”
#Bai
@all
When will this story be over?
Do you know what the Mysterious Benedict Society is?
Reynard “Reynie” Muldoon is an orphaned boy who lives in the Stonetown Orphanage. One morning at breakfast, his tutor “Miss Perumal” notices an advertisement in the newspaper targeted towards gifted children, Reynie follows up and finds himself presented with a series of complex puzzles and odd tests. He passes all of the tests and qualifies to help Mr. Nicholas Benedict. He meets three other gifted children: George “Sticky” Washington, Kate Wetherall, and Constance Contraire. Mr. Benedict, the organizer of the tests, is assisted by his subordinates Number Two, Rhonda Kazembe, and Milligan, the secret agent turned security guard for Benedict.
They explain that a mysterious threat plagues the world in the form of secret messages transmitted into people’s minds via television and radio signals. These messages have created the illusion of international panic known as “The Emergency”. Mr. Benedict invited the children to form a team to stop the Sender from sending them. The messages originate at the Learning Institute for the Very Enlightened “L.I.V.E.” The children join the Institute as students (and spies), and discover astonishing facts that help their mission.
After the events of the previous book, Mr. Benedict, and the children’s parents, plan to bring the children back together for another adventure using their teamwork, skills, and intelligence. When the children arrive at his house, they find out that kidnaped Mr. Benedicthis evil twin, Mr. Curtain kidnaped Mr. Benedict. In a letter, Mr. Curtain explains that he needs a certain rare plant and that a person extremely close to Mr Benedict knows where to find it. He also says that Mr Benedict and his assistant, Number Two, will be in danger if he doesn’t get this info. Constance, Mr Benedict’s adopted 3-year-old genius, soon reveals that Mr Benedict gave her a letter to open when the others came. A series of riddles lead them to take the MV Shortcut, the fastest ship in the world, bound for Lisbon.
They sneak off to the ship, which is captained by Phil Noland, a friend and former navy colleague of Mr Benedict, who has been expecting them. Noland tells them more about Mr Benedict, including his recent communications. Noland gives them a two-way radio for communication, but Reynie mistrusts him and later disposes of it. They find new info, which leads them to a castle in Portugal. There, they find evidence that leads them to a science museum in a city in Holland called Thernbaakagen. At the museum, they learn that the rare plant is called duskwort, capable of inducing a spellbinding sleep, and might be extinct. It has the power to put an entire city to sleep and also has the power to cure narcolepsy, the disease that Mr Benedict and his brother have.
They rest at a hotel that evening but are found by Mr Curtain’s agents called Ten Men, then rescued by Milligan, Kate’s recently found father. They then go to the island that the library said had the last remaining duskwort. On the island, they find Number Two, who tells them that Mr Benedict is being held captive. When Milligan tries to rescue Mr Benedict, the children are attacked by the Ten Men. Milligan comes back and saves the children by fighting the Ten Men while the children escape. Later, they find Mr Curtain, who tricks the children into being captured also. After Mr Curtain leaves to run an errand, Mr Benedict tricks S.Q., their guard, and they get away. The children escape, along with Mr Benedict, Milligan, and Number Two.
As they climb down the mountain, Mr Benedict falls asleep due to his narcolepsy,, and the children carry him down the mountain. They soon find Milligan, who is extremely injured from the battle with the Ten Men, and after Mr Benedict wakes up, they run to the bay and are soon surrounded by the Ten Men. But just in time, the Shortcut and its crew come to save them. Everyone runs into the security holders of the ship and try to hide from the Ten Men, but the Ten Men find them. Just as the Ten Men plant a bomb near the hold, the Royal Navy shows up. Kate throws away the bomb,, and Mr Curtain escapes, but the children make it back home to their families.
Basically, its a mission.
So, the guard dogs may have been a success, but John still had at least no idea what the SNAKEHEAD or even SCORPIA were doing. Would they launch an attack? Were they going to use a method of ransom? Who knew? But they knew one thing – this battle was not yet over. But SNAKEHEAD had a plan. Send men (well, women) with many weapons, just like Ten Men (well, Ten Woman) and later kidnap one person – John/Mr Thoresby, and as a ransom, the prize was the Stradivarius. However, if the Stradivarius was not given in – then there would be problems – problems such as death. Well, not that, they would be taken the SNAKEHEAD biggest boss – a scientific genius known as Ledroptha Curtain, who was previously defeated by four genius (in different ways) children. Reynie Muldoon – the person who always solves the problems, and with the most logic. Sticky (George) Washington – a boy with an incredible reading speed and has almost all knowledge about every single thing. Kate Wetherall – an action-packed female and Constance Contriare – a mental telepath. These four children had heard about the Stradivarius (each of them read the newspaper every single day) and had worked out that Mr Curtain was up to all this – having destroyed his mind-sweeping machine.
And they were going to help.
Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello.
DUDU
@bai
NOpE, never heard of it (except for now)
Nobody knew that the foursome was coming. If they did, no one would realize their potential. They would flap their hand at them and tell them to go away like they would if an average teen came up and asked to help. But now John had realized the deadly secret of the violin. He realized why he had felt the dizziness, and he realized why he had felt the paralysis. He immediately knew why every time he was in its presence, he had felt his neck hairs bristle, and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He knew why he had choked on the big boulder in the middle of the battle. He realized everything, going back over the most confusing parts. They all fell in place now, like the parts of a jigsaw puzzle.
But the worst part was that he could do nothing about it. Absolutely nothing.
He thought about it, wondering how he could stop a spirit possessing him. He wondered what form it would take shape in, thinking about who it was. He thought about the ghost and its background. Then he gasped, almost smacking his head about how stupid he was. He should have known who it was from the first glimpse of the label. The distinctive name, the name every musician should admire and know. It couldn’t be anyone else; no-one else had such a close relationship to the famous model. Nothing was more important at this point. If he hadn’t first seen the label, nothing would have made sense, a mystery, not even the fictional Sherlock Holmes could solve. Nobody had noticed John’s peculiar behaviour near the violin. No-one. Not even the sharpest guard saw. But as John repeated the answer to this solved mystery, One name stuck in his mind.
Antonius Stradivarius Cremonensis…
#Yao
John suddenly realized his mistake. This was not the real Stradivarius. There was never a real Stradivarius. The real Stradivarius was gone. It had been sold in an auction. He had read about it four years ago in a records book. He hadn’t paid a single piece of attention to the fact, but now, he remembered it. This Stradivarius was fake. I had an inkling about this whole thing too. I raised my Stradivarius, and then smashed it onto a rock. Then, the answer came out. Mr Thoresby gasped. He thought that I was lackadaisical about the violin, that it was just something to pilfer from a flea market. He probably thought I though there was a profusion of these violins. And then, I hit the button behind my head. Everything changed.
Time almost went blank. Everything was gone, into the world of cyberspace. I smiled. Yes, I had cracked the mystery. You see, all of this was fake. Everything. It was all part of the Test.
This was just a very realistic VR adventure. I had on a virtual reality headset. It was that simple. I took it off, and met my real world. My dad was sitting next to me, my mom was also on the couch. My real mom and dad. They smiled.
“Son, we’re very proud of you. You passed the Test. We made up an imaginative world, full of Mr Thoresby, my death, you mom’s death of cancer, SCORPIA, SNAKEHEAD, and everything else. We made up the hound dogs, the islands, the guns. We wanted to know if you were capable of being the inheritor of my fortune. We created a separate virtual world for you, including the Stradivarius. While you were sleeping, we temporarily erased your memory and put you into the mind of your computer avatar.
We know it’s been hard for you, after hearing you cry in pain and scream and yell. Four days straight. But we needed to know. You have six other siblings. Any of them could be the potential bearer. Your oldest sister never took it off for five days, never finishing it. We had to remove it. Your two older twin brothers both reached the maximum of ten days and couldn’t even figure it out. We also had to remove it. Your younger sister, who is a very bright girl, figured it out on the sixth day, but a bit too late. Your youngest twin sisters were only toddlers. They cried until we had to remove it. You are it, son. You completed the challenge.”
I was flabbergasted.
All this time, it was just a virtual reality adventure. My parents had decided to test me.
“Breakfast?” a voice called out. My old maid, Hera, had yelled. Then, I found myself repairing. Suddenly, I knew who I was again.
I knew everything, the pool adventure, my siblings, our giant pillow fight two years ago, everything. And I also happened to know that today was my birthday! I skipped into the kitchen, and sat down to a plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, beans, and toast. My siblings only had eggs and fried meat each.
I never had to worry about SCORPIA, SNAKEHEAD, or the Strad ever again. Boy, was I lucky!
#Bai
Please remember to come to https://vmwedu.com/bai-yao-dudu-discussion/
The password is 12345. There, we can meet and discuss.
“Ok. Remember, son, that our fortune is in cell 64 in the storage silos. Make sure you remember this, and never tell out your secret.
Well, John wasn’t as lucky as he thought. The next day, on the way to school, he was thrown into a sack. Hooded men, wearing black suits, grabbed him into a van and injected a syringe into his body. He was out like a light.
A few hours later, in an interrogation room, John was being questioned. “All right. We already know that the cash is in the storage silos, between 13, and 1300. Now, the first question, is the number less than 500?“
John grit his teeth and lied. “No, it is larger than 500.”
But what he did not notice, is the spy on the other side of the window. Behind the glass, he was sent by John’s father to save him, and he would retrieve the cash and the boy. He realised that he could not hear what the boy was speaking, but could hear the question and could tell whether the boy was lying or not. “OK, then. Second question: Is the number a perfect square?”
“No, it is not.” John lied again.
“Is the number a perfect cube?”
“Yes, it is,” John told the truth.
“Ok, final question. Is the number’s ten’s digit one?”
“No, it isn’t,” John said. He was lying, but the interrogator was blocking the spy’s view. Poking another syringe into John, they left with a smile on their faces.
The spy thought, “Assuming the number is a perfect cube, we only have the options, 27, 64, 125, 216, 343, 512, 729 and 1000. The interrogator had to end up with two numbers. One where the last digit is one, and one where it isn’t. This means that if John had said that the number was similar than 500, there would have been too many options. So, John said the number is larger than 500. And then, there is a perfect square in there, which means John must have said that it was not a perfect square. It does not matter to me whether the interrogator gets the fact that it is larger or smaller. It matters to me for the truth. The number is smaller than 500. Possible cubes are 27, 64, 125, 216 and 343. And then it is a perfect square. Therefore the number must be 64.“
Smashing the glass and revealing a still unconscious John, he placed him gingerly into the car outside with the family and headed off to cell 64 before anyone was any bit the wise.
Dudu
@all
Ima just end it here.
John returned to his normal life and his memory wiped of his Stradivarius adventure experience. He forgot about SCORPIA, SNAKEHEAD and all the trouble. He forgot about everything. If he had known about his exploit as an adult, he would have suspected something, something about the vividness and the way it was carried out. He must of suspected something, something about the feeling of the adventure. He wouldn’t have felt it if he was in a VR headset. He a felt the wind on his face, something he wouldn’t have felt, something that would have to be artificial. There was a biting wind, a soft wind, a crisp breeze. But he had forgotten about it, but could be reminded about. However, there was nothing to remind him, absolutely nothing.
He was on holiday though, with his family when he remembered. It was a whole new feeling, and all the memories cascaded down onto him, and he remembered. He saw the mask, the mask that the fake mother wore. It was half-buried in sand, amidst some shells. He remembered the Pressenda, and the way it was crushed. He remembered the fighting and the choking. He remembered all the details, all the death. He remembered SNAKEHEAD and SCORPIA. He felt as if the memories were a waterfall, and he was as helpless as a victim of the water. Nothing was more important at that moment.
He knew it was real. He could remember the pain, real pain, not just for the Test. No parent could hurt their child enough. It was a reassurance. No more than that. Nothing was more clear. Now, he thought, what should I do?
The End