Noah

March 3rd 2014

An old prison just off the eastern coast of England was used for touring. Except no matter what time you enquire about a tour, it was always 'under renovation'. The entrance looked welcoming but in reality no tourists had ever visited Brenton Prison. The last people who'd shown up as visitors had been visiting inmates in the eighteen hundreds.

No, it wasn't a prison. And it certainly wasn't a tourist destination.

It was actually the home of the terrorist cell, Ghost Courage.

What terrorists would hide out in a prison? That's exactly why it worked. No criminal would ever be stupid enough to hide in a prison.

Even from the coast, just a couple of miles away, I could tell that the prison wasn't what it was made out to be. It was dark and dreary, with no welcoming banners or even a boat jetty. The only way it was ever accessed was through the helipad on the roof.

"It's closed, I've already told you." the man in the motorboat said. "There isn't even a dock to park."

"I don't plan on parking." I said. "And I'm paying you to get me there, not to worry about what happens when I get there."

He shook his head. "Whatever," he muttered. "It's your money."

I climbed aboard the boat and paid him half up front. He stared at it in awe and wonder, as though the notes in his hand held the key to everlasting life. Ugh. People and their money.

I waited in patient silence as we crossed the water to the prison island on the other side. Brenton was kind of like Alcatraz's lesser known English cousin. I'd done my research into the prison and it had thrived in the eighteen hundreds for some of England's worst criminals, until it was mysteriously closed off in the eighteen eighties. Nobody knew why it was shut down so immediately, but none of the prisoners or guards returned to the mainland. They'd all died in the prison.

I tried to hide my unease as we got closer. There were no guard towers that I could see, but that didn't mean that there were no guard towers. I didn't like how unprotected it was.

This was supposedly where GC's head of operations lived and where they did some of their most important work. I wasn't sure how the government hadn't found them yet, but I supposed they had no reason to find it suspicious. Regardless, it was bound to be swarming with angry terrorists and violent murderers.

I got the driver to stop at the edge of the island. There was a small climb up to the top but it wouldn't be a problem. I handed the guy the other half of the money.

"Tell anybody about this and I'll kill you." I said sharply. He gave a nervous laugh, but before he could reply I turned and started climbing up onto the wall. The rock was loose and crumbly from years being attacked by the sea, and I struggled to keep a good grip on it. Luckily, I was quite good at rock climbing. If I hadn't been, I would've probably fallen to my death by now.

I finally pulled myself up at the top of the cliff wall. I glanced down at the furious waves below, before reverting my gaze back up to the enormous stone structure that imposed down upon me. With a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold night air, I started towards it in a hurried crouch.

The first security gate was completely unmanned. I didn't think for a second though that that didn't mean that there wasn't any form of security. There were probably security cameras and motion detectors and proximity scanners.

I went around the fence until I got to the spot that I estimated was clear and climbed up the fence. With a pair of thick wire cutters, I cut off the barbed wire and allowed it to drop to the ground beneath. I climbed over after it, dropping as lightly to the ground as I could. I waited for a moment, listening, but there was no sound.