Shane Weston is quietly sat at his fat desk filling in some sort of paperwork in front of him. Somewhere on his desk is sat a radio link-up to the reception area. A radio set up equipment and a set of grey, flat buttons in front of the radio as the object squeaks its sound effect calling Weston as he answers it pressing of those grey, fat buttons. Reception sends Sam Loover's message via this.
Shane:
Reception?
Receptionist:
Communications has been restored Mr. Weston, its Sam Loover from the North Devon Space Centre.
Shane:
Excellent, put him through.
Receptionist:
At once sir.
Silent pause for a couple of seconds.
Sam:
Hello Mr. Weston?
Shane:
Sam! Communications have been restored then.
Sam:
Yes Chief, Joe's party have just fixed the satellite.
Shane:
That's excellent. Once you've recollected the others head back for W.I.N HQ you will be briefed followed by the last final briefing on your mission to the MSRG headquarters in the South Pole. Report when en route again Sam.
Sam:
Ok Chief.
The call finishes as Shane simply returns to his office paperwork, but something is distracting him, some kind of quiet ticking and tensing up Weston. He decides to contact the radio and calls the Receptionist again.
Shane:
Oh, receptionist?
Receptionist:
Yes sir.
Shane:
Would you come into my office quickly please?
Receptionist:
Very good Mr. Weston.
The call ceases one more time as the man slowly picks himself up and tip-toeing along the reflecting floor to, with the utmost caution, search for the mysterious ticking sound unnerving him. Seconds later, unaware of the danger, the smartly well-dressed receptionist enters appropriately before Shane shuts her up rudely.
Can I help you Mr...
Shane:
Sssh! Listen, that ticking sound.
Silence fills the room, except for that doomed ticking, not before long the Receptionist recognizes the sound too.
There is no ticking clock in her is there?
Reception:
No Mr. Weston. You don't suppose...
Shane:
It could be.
Receptionist:
It's coming from the far-left corner.
Shane:
Stay there.
As the Receptionist holds her position as Weston bravely tip-toes over to the source of the ticking, investigating with the utmost attention and care. Once reaching the zone, he examines the wall detailing and scanning for anything suspicious, only to find, one looking high-up to the wall, find some small gadget device placed at the top corner of the ceiling. Too small for a description from the view of Shane Weston, he instantly knew the danger of the device and takes no precaution of the object.
Out! Get out, it's a bomb! Get out receptionist!
The Receptionist rockets out of the bomb-planted office as Shane speedily presses the controls of his radio and shouts down it, calling every single room of the building.
Everybody, get out of the building, there's a bomb, there's a bomb, there's a bomb!
Rushing out without hesitation, Weston forgets to turn off the radio and close the door behind him because of the bomb, obviously. We zoom in on the device, a tiny set of more multi-coloured buttons and a timing mechanism with only seconds to spare!
With half a dozen or so smart men and women dashing out of the building frantically, Weston only has time to reach the road before he and everyone else is blown away and down to the ground with a catastrophic explosion of the WIN building destroyed in one immense puff of smoke and pieces of rubble blasting out of the blow throwing itself aimlessly where it feels like it. After several moments of recovery from the employees, Weston sits himself back up when the Receptionist helpfully make sure Weston is fine.
Receptionist:
Are you alright Mr. Weston?
Shane:
I'm fine thanks, you alright.
She nods yes.
Listen, listen, whoever planted that bomb was intended for me, so must get out of here as soon as possible before I endanger all of your lives again.
Receptionist:
But sir, we have no idea it was for you, I mean...
Shane:
No, I might be the one they're after, but they will kill everyone in their way to get me. Go and make sure everyone else is alright.
She leaves without a second thought, meanwhile, Shane picks out his WIN transmitter before shacking himself down from his wounds and cuts from the inferno yet keeping low and leaning over on the pavement.
Shane Weston to Sam Loover...
YOU ARE READING
Joe 90: The Movie
FanfictionJoe McClaine was a small nine-year-old boy. Once his father invented a machine called the BIG RAT, it enabled the transference of brain patterns between persons. Hence, Joe became "Joe 90" and is now used by the World Intelligence Network as their m...
