Chapter 3 | Elliot
The purely steel interior of room 15 was just like everywhere else. Bland.
There was a single steel table in the middle of the room with one steel chair placed behind it, the entire room was silver, with steel walls which reflected the light around the room, filling every nook and corner. There was nowhere to hide.
“I see you’ve finally arrived,” said the cool voice of Winters who was seated at the steel table. “However, you appear to have arrive before the others,” she sighed, exasperated.
As if on cue the door burst open to reveal Lewis and Cameron in the corridor. They both looked dishevelled and must have run from the other side of the building to get here.
“You’re late. Even Carter manage to get here before you.”
“Sorry Ma’am.”
“Sit. All of you.” She ordered and we all swiftly pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “As you may know, we have been following Foster for the last month.” She took a moment to sit back in her chair and place the files onto the table, before continuing, “Recently he has shown up again, this time here, in London. We have reason to believe that he has been involved with a gang that deals with drugs and black market sales.” Again, she paused for a moment in order to hand each of us a sleek black file, our names printed across the front. “These contain all you will need to know about your task. It is crucial that you read these.”
“Ma’am, isn’t Grey meant to be here?”
“Yes, but it appears he has been injured,” she said with an icy glance in my direction. “So he will receive his later, but for now he is not needed here.”
She rose from her chair and proceeded to the door, turning just before she left, “You are this organisations finest, do not let us down.” She stated before swiftly closing the door.
>>>>
The brief had been short. Get Foster, but don’t kill him, he was worth a whole lot more alive.
I changed and made my way to the weapons room, taking the longer route in order to avoid Jackson. Fortunately I would be with Cameron and Lewis for the majority of this, so there would be no chance for Jackson’s revenge.
Lewis was in the room when I reached it, already strapping on his gun. I stretched over and grabbed mine, turning back towards the door. Pulling the strap over my head, I pushed the gun onto my back. “We need to be outside in 10,” I reminded Lewis “and don’t forget, it’s my turn to ride shotgun.”
As always, if something doesn’t make sense, or I’ve made a mistake, please tell me. And I hope you like it J
YOU ARE READING
12 Years Later.
JugendliteraturAn unlikely friendship forms between two children who's worlds should have never collided. Split apart by their parents and moved to opposite sides of the world. Now, 12 years later, and the situation has changed, no longer are either of them the in...
