Status: In progress
State of Emergency
It always starts the same
The roar of a V8 engine shattered the silence and a red, 1967 Ford Mustang came to a screeching halt outside a notorious strip club. Soon after, the engine of the vehicle shut off and everything was silent again.
The strip club seemed to be buzzing with life, sleazy men coming and going, the strippers standing outside for a cigarette, the neon lights flickering. Everything was seemingly normal, until two men stepped out of the vehicle, dressed head to toe in black. The taller one rubbed his gloved hands together and exhaled, his breath materialising before him and disappearing just as fast.
"C'mon Jones, we don't have alot of time," the taller man said to his companion who looked up and nodded rapidly.
"Yes sir."
It was fairly obvious they weren't there for the entertainment.
Both men walked casually to the door, the bouncer nodding and stepping aside to let the two men into the club, but as he did, three scantily dressed women staggered out, screaming and yelling obscenities. The women were flecked with bloodstains and it was soon evident why.
A younger, much prettier girl of about 18 followed suit, brandishing a machete of some sort. She kicked one of the women down some stairs, yelling; "Don't let me or Cobra see you sluts 'round here no more."
She was quite stunning, with extremely long raven coloured hair and a slender figure. She turned to the two strange men, her stone cold, grey eyes inspecting them. She didn't look like one of the strippers and the look in her eyes wasn't male friendly.
"You guys the NSA?" She barked suddenly, locking eyes with the taller man who closely regarded her.
"Yeah, we're looking for Cobra," the shorter guy piped up.
"Figured as much, follow me," the girl said in a harsh voice, whipping her black hair away from her face and leading the two men into the club.
She walked with a swagger, her hips moving almost seductively with each step. The two men glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.
"Ey! Marcella!"
The girl halted and turned her head to the left, catching sight of one other male. He was extremly tall and fairly well built, but not too muscular. He had short dark hair that was spiked up almost haphazardy and a stupid grin on his face. He would have been all of about 25.
Marcella, upon realising something, pointed the two NSA agents in the direction of the back of the club, telling them to "Go down the back and wait for Cobra"
The two agents watched as the girl walked in the guys direction, throwing herself into his outstretched arms with a small cry of "James, you came back" She was tiny compared to the guy, maybe just under eye-level with his chest. The way he embraced her was heartwarming and loving.
The strip club seemed to be buzzing with life, sleazy men coming and going, the strippers standing outside for a cigarette, the neon lights flickering. Everything was seemingly normal, until two men stepped out of the vehicle, dressed head to toe in black. The taller one rubbed his gloved hands together and exhaled, his breath materialising before him and disappearing just as fast.
"C'mon Jones, we don't have alot of time," the taller man said to his companion who looked up and nodded rapidly.
"Yes sir."
It was fairly obvious they weren't there for the entertainment.
Both men walked casually to the door, the bouncer nodding and stepping aside to let the two men into the club, but as he did, three scantily dressed women staggered out, screaming and yelling obscenities. The women were flecked with bloodstains and it was soon evident why.
A younger, much prettier girl of about 18 followed suit, brandishing a machete of some sort. She kicked one of the women down some stairs, yelling; "Don't let me or Cobra see you sluts 'round here no more."
She was quite stunning, with extremely long raven coloured hair and a slender figure. She turned to the two strange men, her stone cold, grey eyes inspecting them. She didn't look like one of the strippers and the look in her eyes wasn't male friendly.
"You guys the NSA?" She barked suddenly, locking eyes with the taller man who closely regarded her.
"Yeah, we're looking for Cobra," the shorter guy piped up.
"Figured as much, follow me," the girl said in a harsh voice, whipping her black hair away from her face and leading the two men into the club.
She walked with a swagger, her hips moving almost seductively with each step. The two men glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.
"Ey! Marcella!"
The girl halted and turned her head to the left, catching sight of one other male. He was extremly tall and fairly well built, but not too muscular. He had short dark hair that was spiked up almost haphazardy and a stupid grin on his face. He would have been all of about 25.
Marcella, upon realising something, pointed the two NSA agents in the direction of the back of the club, telling them to "Go down the back and wait for Cobra"
The two agents watched as the girl walked in the guys direction, throwing herself into his outstretched arms with a small cry of "James, you came back" She was tiny compared to the guy, maybe just under eye-level with his chest. The way he embraced her was heartwarming and loving.
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay. I have absolutely NO IDEA what in the world possessed me to do this.I have used James and Oliver Phelps aka "The Weasley Twins" but I have portrayed them as normal-ish people rather than wizards. This story has NO affiliation WHATSOEVER with Harry Potter.
I just wondered what it would be like to throw them into a world not unsimilar to that of the movie Enemy of The State.
Comment if you will <3 <3