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 Love Without Consequence (K) 
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Alright, I decided I'd post another one of my works. This one was a piece I did for my English Class. I got a 100% on it, and decided to make a book for it. This is the actual project, at this time I have no intention of posting the actual book-in-progress. I hope you enjoy it. Please, feel free to critic or whatever.

WARNING: You will not be interested in this if you're under 9 years of age.


Love Without Consequence
By: Nathan ******


I was never really bitter about the breakup; I mean, it’s not like she left me for the constable of Liverpool and gave away all our secrets and almost cost me my life, my livelihood, and my friends. Oh wait… she did, didn’t she? Well… I may have been a little bitter. Oh, how rude of me, I’m Denny, Darrin Clydeman.

It was not long after the bust that my team and I recovered, resting somewhere in Istanbul. Dack was really pissed; he had lost a lot of his machinery to the raid. Damien Rydal, “Dack”, had been with me since college. He had fryntastic… amedic… something. Anyways, he spent a lot of time in the hospital as a kid, and has his own personal pharmacy in his pill-box. Since we started up our “business” he needed to take up about 30 other identities to get his meds but, yeah…

Any way, all that time indoors gave him the wonder brain of Einstein himself. While other kids got cars, motorcycles, or a gym membership for their 16th birthday, Dack spent his time with Nintendo 64 and a computer.

He immediately started up a plan for a re-start, while “Rat”, I’m sorry… Sam Downey, hooked up with his contacts in Russia to get us some new IDs. It was the rookie who eventually came up with the idea. He had traced Marilyn, my ex, to a small town called New Rumney outside of Brussels, Belgium. She was with her new “honey” while he cracked down a world organized cocaine smuggling ring.

We were going to dismiss it, but something told Dack to look further into it, it appeared there was some interest in it. Marilyn was in the possession of codes and information where they were keeping our information and the majority of our loot and possessions. Immediately I started organizing a heist to get the stuff back, but Dack secretly knew the truth all along. I wanted some payback… or maybe just to see her one more time.

It was hard, but before long we found ourselves organizing in Paris, France. Dack had gotten enough computers and equipment to start a full retaliatory heist at New Rumney. It was my job to find the team. Well, that wasn’t hard. There was me, Dack as the brains, we had Rat with some acquaintances in Brussels, the Rookie, Waldo Sweeney… Wow, you never really fully understand the comedy in that name ‘till you type it out. Poor guy…. Rookie who would trail these two, learn all he could of anything important in the area. Dimitri Swertziz helped me find a safe house and a truck for transport, and “organized” ourselves an exit strategy, a train leaving for Berlin at 4:10 two months from that time.

With that, we were on the next jet to Brussels, ready to meet up with some friends on the other side. As soon as we landed, we spent a night at their hotel, preparing to move to New Rumney. The next morning we set up our safe house and in the afternoon me and Rookie went out on our first surveillance run. Man, this small town has a lot of secrets. The number of law enforcement was surprising, and it was easy to find the police station and the good constable’s HQ for his mission here. At the same time, some smooth talking, well placed bribes, and sticky fingers left me with blueprints to four major buildings and the police HQ, some charts of patrol routes, and three local police channels for our police scanner back at HQ.

Rookie was a little luckier then me, but he makes a great info-man in the long run anyway. He found the leader of this drug ring, Pablo Ricer, was doing his business out of a ballroom called the Koninklijke Muziek, or Royal Music. This high class area also poses as an HQ to the ring, making millions a year and financing several World Terrorist Organizations around the… well… world. He also found out that not only do the police patrol the streets, but Ricer’s thugs. Also, Rookie found where they were holding our information and codes, split up among the HQ for the constable and the Police HQ of New Rumney. Dack found the whole thing impossible, but that didn’t stop me from throwing down the possibility of swiping not only out info and codes, but maybe a small fortune from Ricer’s own private stash. After a while of thinking, it was obvious more hands were needed.

If we were going to take on Ricer, it was obvious we needed to get the cops involved; this also helped with our other heist. When you’re working to piss off a guy who works with religion-driven, zealous, Muslim madmen you’re going to need to be prepared for his retaliation. He is heavily armed and doesn’t have local street kids as henchmen. We needed someone to not only supply and train us, but to help us when things get hot. I remembered a guy I worked with when we did our North Korean heist. An American, Specialist Jacob Holler. He was free, and was delighted to help. With Rat’s help, he sneaked a small arsenal of weapons and body armor, along with himself, to Brussels. With this big risk and job, we knew we may need some help other than him. He recommended a grease man by the name of Pierre Dufraine. A Frenchmen, how could he? Me being British, we hate the French, but the man’s record was legit.

Dack wanted nothing left to chance, so he planned to blackout New Rumney for the heist. We found the power plant, but we didn’t have enough power, clearance, or way to successfully take it out of action. After much deliberation, it was decided the whole thing had to go. I got our old friend, Cole, in on the action. Cole Tucker was a miner from the USA who volunteered for service in the War on Terror in Afghanistan. He quickly became a demolition expert and spent a lot of time in the NYPD bomb squad. When he was released he became a professional “bomber for hire”, and I had kept up good relations with him. He was out in four weeks.

To hit all three, we needed two vacated. We decided that Rookie, Rat, and Dack could handle the cracking of the mainstream computer into the mechanized vault in the Police HQ, though Pierre and I had to get the files from the constable’s office. To accomplish this, we needed to have these areas relatively clear. I decided it would be helpful if Ricer had a hand in it, so we decided to preoccupy the police with Ricer’s operation. Some well placed photos, evidence, names, and tips would be helpful, but could force the cops to move too early, so we needed to find a date good enough for us to hit Ricer first.

Ricer was holding a “charity” event in four weeks time. What the guests didn’t know is that their admission to the ball and paying for their drinks would indeed go to the “needy in the middle east”, just not the cute and cuddly children people think of, but the merciless terrorists wearing towels. We decided to fake a drug bust on that time; catching Ricer in the act would be irresistible for the coppers. It was hard, but after getting enough evidence against Ricer, we anonymously dropped it off at the police station.

At the same time, we cased Ricer’s ballroom and found a weakness; two key access ways, one through the sewer system below and one through the roof. After some decisive thinking, Rat and I found the sewers systems big enough for a truck, and indeed that was what they were used for. Unfortunately it was well patrolled. After exercising every available action, it was clear Ricer didn’t want anything left to chance either. Direct contact with the guards was imminent.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t help getting to see how Madelyn was doing. She spent the majority of her time spending the money of the constable. Figures… women. Women!

A thought struck me, and I brought in an old pal, Doris Knight. She helped several heists throughout the last couple of years, and we could use her help and ideas timing our mission. She gave us the idea to use the sewer system to get the truck from the ballroom to the constable’s HQ then to the train station. There was no direct route to the train station via sewer system, but two sewer paths did cross close enough that a precise blast could open a hole for the truck.

That was it; we knew what we were going to do, except one thing. Where was Ricer’s vault? Some bribery and careful stalking got us the basic outline of the ballroom. Pierre, at this time nicknamed “Frenchy”, sneaked in one night, giving us pictures and a more detailed map. He actually found Ricer’s office, but found that it was locked with a key pad. After some careful hacking from Dack, we found that the keypad changed every 45 minutes, and Ricer’s watch was programmed to show the current code.

After this slight setback, Doris was chosen to participate in the ball. After Dack hooked a camera up to her glasses, she was to get close enough to Ricer to see the code. Hey, it was the best we could do, and we were out of time.

Two nights from that time, we had to act. The ball went as planned, and Doris entered it. Cole reported that the good constable and his girlfriend, my ex, along with 13 undercover agents also attended the party. A few blocks down, Cole also spotted emergency response teams. They had done it; the coppers had taken the bait!

Holler and Cole then moved the truck into position, taking out three guards down below. I hitched a ride on a civilian chopper and landed on the roof, entering through that way. It was easier then I thought; I got to his office door, only having to knock out one guard, and waited for instruction. Doris did her job, and Dack relayed the code to me. I entered his office and grabbed a good amount of treasure, cash, and documents and stuffed them into bags. It didn’t seem like much, but it would definably be enough.

Jacob arrived and assisted me in bringing the bags to the elevator and carrying them down to the subbasement. As we were leaving, some guard showed up and fired on us. Holler and I immediately fired back, as Cole took the wheel and sped off. We weren’t hit by their bullets, but many got real close. Holler was a better shot then I, and took down two guards. I only made some guards duck, but hey, it helped. So far, so good. Five minutes after we had hit them, the constable ordered the all clear and the party was crashed. Some “carefully” planted drugs helped with the arrest, but Ricer was already in over his head to begin with.

Dack and his team had already moved on the HQ when I was dropped off a block away, or under, the constable’s HQ. I met up with Frenchy and we headed inside. We climbed to the second story, where he entered a side vent to disable the security systems while I continued to the third and entered there. Once inside, the constable’s office was easy to find. You could easily tell he liked the Belgian cuisine as the aroma filled the air in the room. I went and easily cracked the tumble lock safe to get the papers inside. I was so happy, we finally had them, and we finally had out life back.

When I got up to leave, a figure was in the doorway, pistol in hand. I raised my hands, thinking I was done. When the bright light flicked on, illuminating the darkness, I saw it was my ex, Marilyn. She didn’t look surprised, but she did look pretty. She must have beaten the others back from the ball. She shook her head, looking angry.

“Why? Denny,” she said, “Why did you come here?”

“For these,” I replied, “I need my life back.”

I lowered my hands and began walking to the window and opened it. She cocked the gun, and I froze. It wasn’t long when I turned around, starring quizzingly at her.

“You going to shoot me?” I asked.

“If you don’t submit, yes,” she said.

“Oo,” I remarked, “So kinky, unfortunately I have a train to catch.”

With that, I jumped out of the window. Now, kids; normally jumping out of a three story window isn’t smart, and would be certain death, but I knew a ledge was only a floor down, and some shrubbery down from that. After I recovered, I jogged to a waiting car that Dimitri had hijacked. I turned and saw Marilyn watching me from the window. I blew her a kiss, and then entered the car and we drove ourselves to the train station.

It was on our way to Berlin that we began looking over information we had recovered. So much… we were made. We located our secure files and deleted them, our equipment, the majority of our stash from before, and most importantly, we located my Bentley. Dack’s doubt of our heist had all but disappeared; in fact he began preparations for immediate retrieval of out things. After all my heists, that one was the most fun.

I may have been a little bitter. There was a lot more in that vault then our papers. There were some credit cards, passports, and all sorts of cash belonging to… guess. My ex. I even got some contact information. Some identity fraud, withdrawals, and false passports should leave her scarred for a bit. And everyone loves spam mail. Sometimes, in spite, doing the wrong thing… can feel so right. Hi, I’m known as Denny, and I’m the man who’s robbing your bank.


Have a nice day…


Last edited by comedianmasta on Mon Aug 18, 2008 2:41 pm, edited 2 times in total.



Mon Aug 18, 2008 1:56 pm
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Pokemon Ranger
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Consequence. Not Consiquence.

It seems too spoken, but I think that's what you were going for. I'd rather have it be more concise but whatever.

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Mon Aug 18, 2008 2:17 pm
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poplers wrote:
Consequence. Not Consiquence.

It seems too spoken, but I think that's what you were going for. I'd rather have it be more concise but whatever.

Me too, it was done in first person for the sake of the project. The actual book has been taken back to the normal third person writing style I love, but I have the begining of each "Phase" start with a First Person Narrative for a cool effect.


Mon Aug 18, 2008 2:37 pm
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