Talk:Where Legal Eagles Dare: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions

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 “Aieeeeeeeeee!”
-The driver disappeared head-first out of the cabin. As his boots disappeared, Boone pulled himself into the cockpit, honked the foghorn, hauled the wheel and the great rig round towards the Operations HQ, slewing sand out as the centripetal forces kicked in.
+The driver disappeared head-first out of the cabin. As his boots disappeared, Boone pulled himself into the cockpit, honked the foghorn and hauled the wheel hard right. The great rig began to slowly bear around towards the Operations HQ, slewing sand out over the upturned COO gunship as the centripetal forces kicked in.
-A dirt-bike dropped in from the sun Algernon whooped.
+A dirt-bike dropped in through the curtain of sand, over the gunship’s lazily spinning wheels, and landed on its rear wheel by the cabin. Algernon whooped.
-“We’re not home yet Algy”, he growled.
+Boone snarled into his wristcom “We’re not home yet, Algy”.
-The detonation timer ticked down. The KPI explosives were primed. 5:45 and counting
+Algernon gunned the Kawasaki.
-Boone stomped on the gas. the monstrous diesel turbines screamed. ''Come on, you brute come on ... So … little … time …''
+The detonation timer on the dash ticked down. The KPI explosives were primed. ''5:45 and counting.'' Boone wrestled with the wheel. The rig groaned and screamed under the massive Gs as it re-vectored agonisingly to the north. ''Come on, you brute, come on ...''. The rig leveled up. The Gs eased off. Five clicks yonder, Boone could see Operations outpost in the crosshairs,, shimmering in the hot desert air.
-A bloodied fist grabbed the running board. Operations Officer Kurzweil hung on for his life: at first, it was all he could do just to keep his hold and stop himself being swept under the semi’s monstrous wheels as they thundered against the dirt inches by his ear. The roadway grated and pummeled him all over.
+Boone stomped on the metal. The monstrous diesel turbines screamed.  The rig picked up pace.
-But slowly he hauled himself back. He executed a daring switch-grip and established a firm boothold on the chassis. Like a limpet, he clambered up and edged around the cabin.
+The timer clicked past 5 minutes. 4:59. '' So … little … time …''
+A bloodied fist grabbed the running board. Operations Officer Kurzweil hung on for his life: at first, it was all he could do just to keep his hold and stop himself being swept under the semi’s monstrous wheels as they thundered against the dirt inches away from his ear. The brutal dirt roadway grated and pummeled him all over.
+But slowly, he hauled himself back into the game. He executed a daring switch-grip,  and established a firm boothold on the chassis. Like a limpet, he clambered up and edged around the cabin.
+Kurzweil leant in the window, baffed Boone across the jaw, and grabbed the wheel. “''NOT … ON … MY… WATCH … BOONE''”
+Boone spat a string of blood onto the wheel. The taste of copper filled his mouth.
+Kurzweil came again, but Boone was braced for him. An elbow to the cheek knocked Kurzweil back, cracking his head against the stanchion. Boone clamped him, but the Operations man kept swinging. He clamped Boone by the throat. His grip was like a vice.
+The rig veered and fishtailed.
+As his air-flow constricted Boone felt himself going light-headed. He tried to reach for the wristcom to call for his wingman, but Kurzweil’s reach was too long. Kurzweil baffed him again for good measure, and somehow hooked a boot on the latch. The door swung open, with Kurzweil on it. He yanked Boone with him.
+Boone, couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He was going blue. Kurzweil doubled down on the clamp. Boone swung at him, but Kurzweil’s reach was too great. He found nothing but air. The door swung back. Kurzweil booted Boone in the face. Boone lost grip on the wheel Kurzweil pushed it round.
+The rig fishtailed
+the counter ticked through 4 minutes
+Boone could only pray that Algernon would glom on to the situation.
+snap out of the fantasies of the playing fields of Rugby which filled his empty head far too often, and notice the grim fight to the death occurring mere inches in front of the cargo hold.
+Captain Algernon Farquahar did hear. Putting his head through the British Army blanket that hung down between the seats and the hold, an improvised shield at best, he reversed the Webley in his grip. The old Webley that had belonged to his father during the First War.
+Coldly, he struck Kurzweil across the side of the head.
+“Got him, Boonie – but are we too late?”
+Boone looked at the countdown timer. 3:41. The sweep hand mocked him with its relentless spin.
+“You know what we need to do,” he said.
+Algie nodded.
+The big rig accelerated.
+Boone and Algie looked at each other.
+“I’m not sure I will see Rugby again, old man.”
+“And I’m not sure I will ever kiss my girl again … but I will be dam**d if those KPIs are going to wreck HQ.”
-He leant in the window, baffed Boone across the jaw, and grabbed the wheel. “! NOT … ON … MY… WATCH … BOONE”
 ==Thots==