A sequel. Thanks to Plaid for the title. Oh, if you haven't done so already, it might be wise to read the original first. My advertising here is done... Chapter A Assorted members of the press crowded around the table, looking expectantly at the door that was about to open. Hex fiddled with her pen in her right-hand and twiddled her short, professionally cut, red-brown hair with the forefingers of her left-hand. She too was staring at the distinctly average door in this distinctly average room, which was about to hold one of the most-eagerly awaited press-conferences of the year. Occasionally her eyes flicked to the small white table, which housed a variety of microphones, all pointed towards whoever was going to sit in the two chairs. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and a tall security man stepped through, followed by a sour-looking girl, followed by a grizzly old man who had his hands protectively on the girl's shoulders, followed by another burly security guard. The old man and the girl sat in the chairs. The girl immediately folded her arms and twisted her face into an even deeper look of contempt. Hex stopped twiddling her hair, unhooked a notepad from her shirt's top-pocket and readied her pen. Most of her colleagues did likewise, although some were prepared to rely on the microphone picking it all up. The old man cleared his throat, causing some of the press to wince at the rattling sound which came out. It got the attention of the room, most of the eyes darted from the girl to the wrinkly old man, whose brown face contrasted markedly with his tufty white hair. He looked like he spent all day outdoors, which was accurate - he resented having to go indoors when the sun was shining, it seemed like a waste of Vitamin D. “Uh-hmm, well as y'all prob'ly know, ah'm Roman Kay. Ah'm the trainer for Plaid 'ere an' ah've never bin so prahd as when ah seed ‘er score so many goals today. Bu' ah was disapoin'ed in the way she finished. Disapoin'ed.” As he spoke, Plaid's expression changed from milk souring to cheese creating. “Roman!” called a press member, “Where do you think she got the idea to hit an opponent AND their elephant with her polo stick?” “Ah've no idea, an' it def'nately weren't me tha' taught it 'er. Ah, pers'nally, blame TV. Bu’ ah guess ye shud aks ‘er yerselves.” The eyes in the room swivelled back to the sour-faced girl. Some of them took in her dark bushy hair, which seemed to threaten to burst free at any moment and devour the room, as did her brown ‘What you looking at?’ eyes. Her mouth was currently set so thin that it didn’t look like it could devour a piece of paper, but a few more nervous members of the press wouldn’t have been surprised if she had opened her mouth to reveal a vortex. In short, Plaid had a reputation. Hex didn’t give a damn about reputations, she stood up. “Plaid? My name’s Hex, Boardanian Times. May I congratulate you on scoring so many goals today?” Plaid’s expression didn’t change and her lips barely moved as she replied, “Ta.” “Can I also ask why you struck your opponent so viciously?” Plaid paused, as if trying to remember something, “Sorry,” she said in a dull monotone. “But why did you strike James?” Plaid paused again and took a deep breath for the long sentence ahead, “Said I was a whore.” Several members of the press gasped. Plaid paused again, “S’not allowed.” Plaid contrived to look angrier and smacked the table with her fist. Almost simultaneously, a loud bang was heard from outside and the ground shook slightly. “What the..?” said Hex. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* In the hospital, Doctor Whiplash approached the weeping figure of Hsing. She had noticed the life-support machine had been switched off deliberately and didn't feel proud of what she was about to do. “Miss Hsing?” she said softly. “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to call the police.” Miss Hsing looked up with red eyes. “But...” Doctor Whiplash shook her head, “Euthanasia is a crime, whether it's your son or your cousin's wife's uncle.” “So what happens now?” replied Hsing through her sobs. Doctor Whiplash looked at Hsing for a millisecond, then had to turn away. The only sound she could hear was irregular sniffing. She barely registered the sound of a large bang outside. She looked back into Hsing's eyes. “I advise you to run, and never tell anyone what has happened in here.” Hsing looked stunned. “Go!” said Doctor Whiplash. “I'll arrange things.” “I don't know what to say.” “Just go.” Hsing went. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Hex stood up and strode towards the exit, as she did so; she heard the sounds of small, yet hard objects hitting the floor outside. She waited for the shower to subside, counted to ten, then walked outside. She saw several pieces of bricks and a little sign that said ‘BicTec’. Hex gasped, “Spiky?” She pulled out her mobile phone and quickly selected her sister's number. It went straight through to voicemail, “Hey ya! This is Spiky, but I'm not available now. Leave me a message after the, um... beep!”
Chapter B Brad reached for his remote, switched the live press conference coverage off and leant back in his black, leather, super-executive™ chair, which lay behind his extensive mahogany desk. It was a tough life, being the President of the Federated League of International Polo Players, Elephant Division (or FLIPPED for short). He thought about Plaid. Undoubtedly, she was a great talent with the stick in her hand and a jumbo under her, however, she still had to improve her practice of the 'niceties' of the sport. He could tell she was also going to be a very marketable player, with a bit of hard work, she could be turned into one of the all-time greats. Brad flicked a switch on the intercom, “Ryan? Can you find Quoth and ask him to see me, please?” Brad relaxed again, until the phone rang, which was strange, most people went through his secretary. However, he recognised the number, it was someone he hadn't spoken to in some time. He picked up the phone. “Yes?” He listened. “I gathered.” “Well, come on! Out with it!” “Hmm... and?” “Why should I? I haven't spoken to him in 15 years.” “Never seemed like he was.” “It's not like I couldn't get another one,” with that statement, he hung up, but with a touch of sadness in his face. There was a knock on the door. Brad swivelled in his chair away from the door, facing the view from his penthouse office. “Enter,” he called. A young man walked through the door. Quoth had a red, eager face, which always seemed to be lightly perspiring. He was the youngest of FLIPPED's executives, on Brad's recommendation, because Brad knew he would do what he was told, without question. “Ah, Quoth,” said Brad to the window. “Can you get the press officer to release a statement that Plaid is to be fined £2000 for her digression and she is to be placed in a programme to educate young players of the game. Tell them to dress it up in the usual language.” “OK boss,” replied Quoth, heading for the door. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Hsing drove out of the hospital car-park, swerving slightly as she put on the hands-free kit for her mobile phone. Slowly and carefully, she dialled a number she hadn't rung in a long time. If Hsing had kept someone in the boot (she didn't), they would have heard her say: “It's me.” “I have some... terrible news.” Hsing paused. “Chris is dead.” “Don't you care?” “But he's your son!” The fictional boot dweller would have noted a touch of hysteria enter Hsing's voice. “He's dead! Brad, your only child is deceased!” Hsing went quiet and the boot dweller would have noticed a disbelieving face and some tears rolling down her face. If they were in a position to see her rear view mirror, that is. Which would be unlikely given the roof shelf was in it's normal place. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Hex ran. She hadn't visited Spiky's work before, but she navigated by the big cloud of smoke rising above the buildings around her. As she got closer, the streets became thicker with people and patches of 'nervousness' where people had been when the blast occurred. After a few near falls, Hex slowed down. Navigating through the assembling crowd was proving difficult, the crowd had spotted the police vans and had been drawn to the area like a bear to a woodland toilet. Hex finally fought her way to the front, where her view was slightly spoiled by a big, burly policeman who was protecting the police tape line. Craning her neck around the policeman, Hex was treated to the sight of a pile of rubble where BicTec had once stood. She immediately jumped forward, but the policeman blocked her way. “No entry, ma'am. Restricted area.” “But my sister! She worked there!” “Sorry ma'am. No unauthorised personnel to enter. Besides, the emergency services are on the scene and more are on their way. Best leave it to the professionals, eh?” Hex sighed and stepped back. Professionals, eh? she thought, maybe I should do what I'm professional at, she moved back into the crowd and started looking for an alternate, investigative reporter way into the scene.
i wish i could type a pound sign properly. two thousand pounds. that's such a lot. anyway, very good ben. wow. write more quick.
Excellent stuff Ben. I do hope my character does not die a gruesome death. Though if she does I hope it is slightly amusing.
So yeah... been a while. Sorry bout that. Thanks to Plaid and Chris for constantly reminding me, practically constantly, for the past three months. Hope this is worth 90 odd days of nagging... Chapter C Hex managed to find a secluded spot in the road behind BicTec. She located the building that backed onto BicTec, which was surprisingly intact considering its proximity to the blast. She had a little snoop around the back garden and noticed that a small door, down to what looked like a coal cellar, was ajar. She opened it fully and stuck her head inside. There wasn't any coal, but there were some steps. She walked down them. Hex realised that the steps were leading to a large basement, larger than the house it seemed. As she reached the bottom, she noticed a static figure on the other side of the room. She called out, “Hello?” There was no response. Hex walked across, “Hello?” she repeated. The figure stood still with their head slumped and as Hex approached, she realised that it was actually a synthetic face, this thing evidently wasn't human. Hex looked at it for a while. For some reason it was dressed in a Victorian maid's costume, but apart from the pallid, rectangular face, it looked scarily realistic. She inspected the back of the figure, which was as immaculate as the front – except for something odd on the back of the neck. Hex peered closer and realised it looked a little like a switch. She pushed it. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Plaid and Roman returned to the dressing room. The meeting had broken up pretty quickly after the rockfall outside, especially after the tricky woman had left. “Well, tha' wisn' as bad as yer though', was it?” said Roman. Plaid smirked, “I am starting to get used to them.” “I's jus' a knack. Gi' it a year, yer'll be perfick.” Plaid frowned slightly, “They'd better not make the ban too long. If they make me sit on the side too long...” “They won', they won'. Yer gonna be a grea' player for 'em. Yer'll be back soon.” “If they do...” “They won'.” *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Hex gaped in disbelief as the automaton stood up. It looked around and having located Hex, turned to face her. “Hello,” it said, “thank you for purchasing me. Please could you let me know what you would like to name me.” Hex gaped some more and struggled to think. She looked at the outfit once more and a few neurons fired, finding a memory of one of her cousins who liked to dress up like a maid. “Andrew,” she paused, thinking it was a little flat, “that is what you shall be called.” Hex listened to herself and felt stupid. “Hello,” repeated the robot, “I am Andrew. How may I be of assistance?” “Er... can you tell me what you are?” “I am a T4 robot, designed to make your life easier. I will obey your every command, where possible.” “Woah. A real robot... how many others like you were built?” “I do not have that information.” “Hmm,” mused Hex, “who created you?” “I do not have that information.” “What about if you have a fault? Where do you go?” “The owner, that is you, is furnished with a contact number for that purpose. In the case of a fault, I may not be able to communicate.” Hex pondered a while, What a machine! Could pass for human in bad light, capable of rational conversation. Will obey any command... Who the hell has the technology to make this? She walked around Andrew, who followed her movement, “Andrew, who owned you before me? “I do not have that information. I have no memories from before you acquired me.” “None at all?” “None.” “Hmm, no memory, no knowledge of manufacturer...” “That is correct.” “No known brethren... oh my... Spiky. That's why I'm down here.” Hex turned to the robot, “Andrew, would you be able to find a way through that wall behind you? I'm sure someone came through this way to BicTec and left you behind... but how did they get through?” “I will endeavour to find the way. May I suggest you step back.” Hex retreated to the steps, where she sat down and watched Andrew inspect the wall. Eventually, he seemed to spot something and pushed one of the shelves on the wall. The wall and the floor closest to it started to rotate, moving Andrew towards it. He didn't move for long. A selection of masonry collapsed through the ever increasing gap, crushing the robot. The gap filled and the wall stopped rotating, but bulged slightly under the strain. Hex walked briskly over, “Andrew? Answer me!” There was no response. Hex looked down at some of the fallen bricks and noticed a patch of colour. She picked it up and recognised the ready smile of her sister on her ID card. After a moments shock, Hex realised the wall was creaking ominously and feeling wiser to be safe, she rushed up the basement stairs to the garden above. Where she ran into a policeman.
YAAAAY Im no longer a lesbian nurse! woohoo i graduated to doctor! This is cool Ben, We need more. Please can we have more murder and intregue. PLLLEEEEAAASSSEEE
