For Love

by no1inparticular

Tags: Ma/Fa, Fiction, Violent,

Desc: Drama Story: What would you do for love?

The six men walked down into the London Metro system Oxford Circus station during the late afternoon going home rush. As they stood on the platform in the crushing sea of humanity, they casually and smoothly pulled weapons, automatic assault rifles, out from under their coats and began to fire into the crowd. The oldest one, presumably the leader, held an M46 fragmentation grenade in this left hand. He had already pulled the safety pin and the only thing stopping the grenade from functioning was that he gripped the spoon in place. He effectively held a ‘dead man’ bomb. A London Metro Policeman used his radio to call for backup and for the Flying Squad to come armed. As he himself was unarmed, the most he could do, having gotten the call out, was to attempt First Aid to those people around him who were down.

On one end of the platform, a group of school children were returning from an outing to one of the many museums that London is famous for. The teacher in charge of the group was cut down as she tried to move the children out of range. The gunman who shot her saw the children and calculating the high value of their deaths, began specifically targeting the children. Two of the children, both with red hair and freckles, fraternal twins in fact, held hands as they tried to hide deeper into the crowd. The merciless bullets followed them and they entered death still holding on to each other.

He woke up from the dream sweating and shaking. He eyes still watching the children dying and the gunmen gleefully killing more and more innocent people. He stepped into the bathroom to splash water over his face. As he grabbed a towel to dry himself, he reached for his cell phone. Looking through his contacts, he selected a number he had sworn never to call again.

“Kate,” he said without preamble, “It is me. You must not let the twins go on their field trip into London.”

Kate gasped. Hearing this voice, like a ghost from her past, plus the warning it gave, the knowledge that simple statement revealed hit her like an avalanche. “Jonathan?” she gasped, “What do you mean, how do you know about the trip?”

“It does not matter how I know,” John said “Just do not allow the twins to go into the city.”

With his warning given, John quickly hung up before he said more, the tears were already forming in his eyes and his throat was closing up. He threw the now ringing phone across the room and fell back onto the bed.


The six men walked down into the London Metro system Oxford Circus station during the late afternoon going home rush. As they stood on the platform in the crushing sea of humanity, they casually and smoothly pulled weapons, automatic assault rifles, out from under their coats and began to fire into the crowd. The oldest one, presumably the leader, held an M46 fragmentation grenade in this left hand. He had already pulled the safety pin and the only thing stopping the grenade from functioning was that he gripped the spoon in place. He effectively held a ‘dead man’ bomb. A London Metro Policeman used his radio to call for backup and for the Flying Squad to come armed. As he himself was unarmed, the most he could do, having gotten the call out, was to attempt First Aid to those people around him who were down.

On one end of the platform, a group of school children were returning from an outing to one of the many museums that London is famous for. The teacher in charge of the group was cut down as she tried to move the children out of range. The gunman who shot her saw the children and calculating the high value of their deaths, began specifically targeting the children. Two of the children, both with red hair and freckles, fraternal twins in fact, held hands as they tried to hide in the arms of the lone female chaperone. The merciless bullets followed them, hitting both the chaperone and the twins. Mother and children entered death still holding on to each other.

He woke up from the dream sweating and shaking. He eyes still watching Kate and her children dying and the gunmen gleefully killing more and more innocent people. He stepped into the bathroom to splash water over his face. As he grabbed a towel to dry himself, he reached for his cell phone. Looking through his contacts, he selected a number and hit SEND. “I need to be in London no later than noon tomorrow. No, no luggage beyond carry on. Don’t care, just what ever gets me there. K.” He hung up and began to grab clothes from his closet and dresser.

Using his hands to measure along the wall next to his bed, he arrived at a spot and punched the wall with the flat of his hand. A section of drywall broke free, revealing a framed space in the wall’s construction. From inside he removed a Beretta 96, wrapped in an oiled cloth. He set that aside. Reaching in again, he removed two banded bundles of bank notes which he threw onto the pile of clothes before turning towards the bathroom to gather his shaving gear.


John walked down the Jetway and entered the 737-900. British Airways, always the amenities based company, had departed from the standard cattle call configuration of the American companies to the more elegant European Business Class, European Comfort Class, Coach layout. Finding his place in the Business Class section, John stuffed his carry on into the overhead compartment and settled into his window seat.

As he was sitting waiting for the flight to finish loading, an elderly couple stopped in the aisle at his row. The man sat in the seat across the aisle while the woman sat next to John. Turning to look at John she said, “I hope you don’t mind, we both find the aisle seat so much easier to get in and out of.”

“No problem,” John replied, “it’s not like cheek to jowl back in coach.”

The woman chuckled a bit, “yes, these are very spacious. My name is Rebeca, Rebecca Stohle.”

John shook her hand and said, “I am John, Jonathan Nightscreamer.”

The old lady smiled, “Now that is an unusual last name. Is it Native American?”

“Yes,” said John, “I know I don’t look the part but Great Great Grammy married a Niantic man and the name has come down the generations.”

“Well, it is nice to meet you,” Rebeca said, before turning to the elderly man she had arrived with and began the typical ‘couples getting ready for a long flight dance’.

It was at around the fourth hour into the flight mark that the old lady, having run out of the flight activities; eat, have some drinks, scroll through the movies, etc. turned to John. “So, why are you going to England?” she asked, “Robert and I are going for our honeymoon.” She giggled at John’s expression. “We knew each other in High School but went our separate ways after graduation. We each got married, had families and eventually buried our spouses. We met a few years ago at a class reunion and found the feelings we had back in school still were there. We got married last week and here we are, off on an adventure.”

John smiled, “I am happy for you both.”

We are going to Wales, Solva and then to St David’s Head. I have family from my father’s side there. We will have built in tour guides!”

“Wales is great,” John said, “I’ve been a few times to a place near there, RAF Brawdy. It was an old WWII base that had been repurposed by the time I saw it.”

“Did you spend much time there?” she asked.

“No, I just visited it a few times, they had information I needed for my job which was up in the Lakes District of England,” John continued, “I worked for a joint US-UK group doing hush hush type stuff.”

“Oh, you were a spy,” Rebecca’s eyes were glittering as she teased John. “No, no, nothing that glamorous, just information processing, looking at this and that,” John chuckled.

“So, Mr. Spy,” she said with a grin, “you still haven’t told me why you are going to London.”

“As I said,” John began, “I was assigned to a group up in the Lakes District. We worked by ourselves, our packages were usually just sent out without contact from the users. One day we got a notice that an analyst was coming up from London to look at some of our raw data. This was a bit unusual, it sort of smacked of someone thinking we hadn’t gotten it right and they were sending an ADULT to see how the children had messed up. Needless to say, we were not in the best of moods when the analyst actually showed up. The morning we expected ‘Her Nibs’ to show, I was running late. In fact, it was about two hours after my normal start time that I made it into the office. I dumped my gear onto my desk and went into the conference room. Most of the guys were standing around a figure that was bent over one of the plotting tables. My entry caused the figure to stand erect and turn towards the noise of my entry. Her eyes met mine and time stopped. It was like I was sucked into her eyes as I saw her. She had red curly hair, green eyes and freckles. Her lips had started to form a smirk with a look like ‘what is this that crawled out from under a rock?’ when it froze in place. I think we stood there for quite some time because the next thing I knew I was getting a ribbing from the guys about shutting my mouth and such.”

John stopped his story to sip some water before he began again.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Fiction / Violent /