Start Fiction:
Billy Schrude broke formation and walked across the courtyard, seemingly calm and collected. He headed straight for Captain Jones, failed to salute and punched him in the face. Captain Jones fell over, knocked out cold.That was the last time Frank saw Billy, thirty-five years ago; today wasn't exactly a reunion.
Frank was headed in for a debriefing and there was some sort of protest outside the building. It was a rather lively crowd, verging on riotous. And there, with a bullhorn was Billy shouting at the MP's a mere few feet away. The crowd chanting, cheering behind him. He was in charge, and he knew it.
All his fire drove him a little too far as he got a little too close to the MP's and the reacted. Frank stopped and watched the ensuing struggle which lasted for several minutes and ended with Billy being restrained by four officers, but only after he had beat down six others. For a vagrant in his early fifties, Billy looked as though he was in his early thirties.
As he shouted, still fighting, Billy's eyes met Franks and he stopped shouting immediately. For the first time in several decades, Frank felt fear; cold fear.
End Fiction.
No comments:
Post a Comment