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Peter Stryker 005 - DRAGONFIRE
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SpikeSpiegel
Swimming Bird

Gender: Male
Location: United Kingdom

Peter Stryker 005 - DRAGONFIRE

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KMC presents
A story by SpikeSpiegel
Based on Ian Fleming's 007: James Bond

Peter Stryker 005
in
DRAGONFIRE


__________________


I'm not going there to die. I'm going there to see if I really am alive.
Check my Bio for my stories [Last Updated - 27th July 2008]

Old Post Jan 3rd, 2007 08:04 PM
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SpikeSpiegel
Swimming Bird

Gender: Male
Location: United Kingdom

1/ Dreamer’s Requiem

Peter Stryker felt like the happiest man in the world. His body had moved itself to reflect this. He sat with his head resting on his left hand, which had its elbow resting on the table. A smile covered his face, and his blue eyes seemed to reflect the light like jewels. He wore a tailored suit, his top two buttons on his shirt lay undone and his tie had been loosened to give a more casual appearance.
Slowly he moved his right hand over his empty plate, that half an hour before had contained some of the finest lamb money could buy. His hand went to the ice bucket that stood next to the table, he pulled out the bottle of champagne that lay within and poured what remained of it into the glass of the woman who sat opposite him. She looked as happy as he did, her left hand in front of her face as she admired her new ring.
Peter was staring at her as though he had just met her, mentally noting all of her physical attributes that he had fallen for. The emerald green eyes, the smallish button nose, the wide smile of her lips, and the comma of black hair above her left eye that was rebellious against any means of controlling it. She wore a low cut black dress, and seemed oblivious to everything else occurring in the room.
Peter was fed up with his job. He had decided he should settle down and find something quieter, something that didn’t have him travelling all over the world and risking his life purely for Queen and country. He had fallen in love and wanted to raise a family. He nodded towards the waiter and asked for the bill.
His now-fiancé was still admiring her new ring. Although the pay of a double-oh agent was low, he had good connections. She knew his job; he had requested security clearance for her after his last assignment.
They had met a year before; she had been working for the Bank of Scotland while he had been requested to investigate the counterfeiting of money. It had been a job for Mi5, but it was linked to a man he was investigating out of the country, who had counterfeiting operations in several different countries. They had hit it off immediately and when Peter had returned from his assignment he used the companies resources to find her, he had claimed he was “tying up loose ends”, and from there they had begun a relationship.
The bill came and Peter paid, he walked outside with his fiancé around his arm. He called a taxi and they sat together in the back seat and she rested her head on his shoulder. Peter put his head atop hers and caressed the small of her back.

They arrived back at Peter’s house half an hour later. Peter paid the driver and kissed his fiancé. His mobile rang in his pocket. “Excuse me a minute” He said between kisses, “Go and put on something romantic and get a bottle of Bollinger ‘53” She ran off and opened the door while Peter pulled out his phone and answered it. “Stryker. Oh hi, Jacobs…”
A song came on the stereo inside the house. “Peter! Don’t go home! They know where you live. They want payb…” Peter dropped the phone before the voice could finish and ran towards the house, his hand reaching to his gun, which hung just below his left shoulder. “Ka….” The explosion within threw him backwards. He hit his head on the side of the taxi, before it had a chance to drive away.
Disorientated he stumbled to his feet and moved towards the house, his vision was blurred and he stumbled over his own feet and collapsed on the floor.


__________________


I'm not going there to die. I'm going there to see if I really am alive.
Check my Bio for my stories [Last Updated - 27th July 2008]

Old Post Jan 3rd, 2007 08:05 PM
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SpikeSpiegel
Swimming Bird

Gender: Male
Location: United Kingdom

2/ A Broken Man

A month later, Peter Stryker sat alone in his small single bedroom apartment. It had once been a safe-house, though the ministry had provided it for him. A thick layer of stubble covered his face; his hair was equally as unruly. The flat smelt of smoke and alcohol. Empty bottles of various alcoholic substances littered the tables and work surfaces. Empty packs of cigarettes lay scrunched up around the floor.
Peter sat in the middle of his small sofa, a coffee table lay in front of him. Three things stood on the table, a glass and a bottle of whisky, and his Berretta. His hands stroked the hair around his mouth as he stared at the gun. His hands reaching to pour another drink. He picked this up and gulped down half of it. He slowly picked up the gun and pulled back the slide; he turned it around to look down the barrel and stuck it in his mouth. Tears began to roll down the side of his face. He closed his eyes and thought of the woman he loved. He pulled the gun out, gritting his teeth and uncocked it. He couldn’t bring himself to kill himself.
A knock came at the door. Peter slid the gun under the seat of the sofa and stood, downing the rest of his whisky as he did so. He moved over to the door, lighting up another cigarette on the way. He opened the door to his boss, M. M stood a couple of inches shorter than Peter, his eyes hazel, and his grey hair thinning on top. A thin beard covered his face. He wore a grey suit and was carrying a crown briefcase, “Morning 005” He said, in his thick Scottish accent, stepping past Peter and into his house.
Peter was slightly taken aback, “….morning…sir……I’m not really in the mood for this…”
“My god man…” M said walking past the small kitchenette and into the main living room area, “First time I’ve agreed with that shrink!” Ha was looking at all the empty bottles and cigarette packets.
“That shrink said I was unfit for duty – survivor’s guilt or something. Said I would have a tendency to needlessly risk my life in an attempt to…”
M had moved to the sofa and flipped up the seats, he looked from the gun to Peter, “We’ve been looking for that…You’re doing exactly what you were predicted to do. You can’t bring yourself to kill yourself directly – so you’re trying to kill yourself slowly, smoking and drinking yourself to death. That is why I’ve been recommended not to let you go on any missions.”
“I wouldn’t want to – it was this goddamned job that put me in this mess.” Peter said angrily.
“Well that’s the part I have a problem with.” M said putting a seat back and sitting down. He placed his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it up. “As you know I put agent 694 in charge of finding the ones who blew up your house, and killed your fiancé.” He paused and pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his suit’s pocket. “Well he followed them back to the renegade IRA members that you were investigating at the time. He uncovered information on a meeting with a pharmaceutical company operating in France, “Acorn Pharmaceuticals.””
“Acorn…yes….I remember seeing the word written on several dispatches they sent around.” Peter said remembering.
“Well, 002 was in France at the time, working on another operation – “Dragonfire”…”
“Dragonfire?” Peter asked, not expecting an answer. M pulled out a folder from the briefcase, checked what was written on the front below the top secret stamp and handed it over to Peter.
“Yes…Dragonfire is a virus we’ve been following for several months now; it was first brought to our attention by a Robert Jackson…”
“A scientist from Acorn…” Peter said reading the file; he stamped out his cigarette in an ashtray.
“Yes…002 infiltrated the company, posing as one of the scientists. He managed to work his way to the meeting…and that’s the last we’ve heard of him. He hasn’t checked in with us in over 80 hours now. I’m on my way to a meeting with the Head of Section F and the Chief of Staff. We believe he has been captured by one of the groups involved. We need someone to go in and find him.”
“Me…” Peter said flicking the file closed.
“If you can clean yourself up. I don’t agree with that part of your psychological evaluation. You just need to work in the field again, get a feel for it. You’re one of our best agents and I’m not going to lose you because of one incident.” M was on his feet now.
“I don’t really feel like helping out the service at the minute…” Peter said bitterly.
“I had a feeling you would say that…And while officially you will be there to find 002 and to recover any information on this virus…unofficially you have to use your prerogative…” M said with a slight smile, “I hear the IRA group is still in France until Thursday.”
Peter looked up from the floor, “Chief of Staff would never allow it…”
“He has to – you’re the only double-oh agent available, and the only one with the necessary experience and contacts in France. And ultimately it’s my decision.”
Peter sighed, looking around the room, his mouth gradually forming a smile. “When do I leave?”
“This afternoon at 1400 hours. Now go and get yourself cleaned up.” M said snatching the file back and throwing it into his briefcase. He had risked a lot to get his agent back, and he hoped in the end of the day he would have set in motion a plan to but the broken man back together again.


__________________


I'm not going there to die. I'm going there to see if I really am alive.
Check my Bio for my stories [Last Updated - 27th July 2008]

Old Post Jan 3rd, 2007 08:05 PM
SpikeSpiegel is currently offline Click here to Send SpikeSpiegel a Private Message Find more posts by SpikeSpiegel Edit/Delete Message Reply w/Quote Quick Quote
SpikeSpiegel
Swimming Bird

Gender: Male
Location: United Kingdom

3/ The office

The large building that sits at 85 Vauxhall Cross, London is far from an ordinary building. For the past twelve years it has served as the headquarters for the Secret Intelligence Service, otherwise known as Mi6. Its position over the river Thames was one that Peter Stryker was fond of. He stood in his office on the seventh floor, looking out at the river. It always seemed to calm his soul, and now was no different. His reflection in the window was different to the one that had greeted M an hour before. It was clean shaved, strong, and determined.
Peter held the case-file from 002’s Dragonfire assignment in his hand. The virus was only a secondary objective for him. He had known 002, and the rest of the agents in his department, well. He had known his wife and children, they had played golf once a month since Peter had been promoted to double-oh status eighteen months before. Peter went over to his desk, taking a cigarette from his pack of Morley’s on the desk. He lit it and opened up the file again, reading through 002’s cover and transmissions. The last one read that he was to attend the meeting between the Acorn president and the IRA members that Peter had been tracking months before.
He closed the file and picked up a white envelope that lay on the top of his “in” tray. It contained all the details on his cover. His name was to be John Smith, from the Transworld Consortium. He was in France to import new painkillers manufactured by Acorn pharmaceuticals. 002’s notes showed him to be working as a scientist for the company. Peter read through his cover story another two times, before sliding his chair over to the shredder on one side of his desk, he slipped the paper into the machine and then moved back to his desk. He picked up the white envelope again and pulled out his plane ticket, and the passport in the name of John Smith. He put these in the inside pocket of his suit. The phone made a buzz to indicate that the secretary was trying to reach him. Stryker moved forwards and pushed a button to activate the speakerphone.
“Your car is here, Mr. Stryker…” The voice crackled over the machine, pausing after his name.
“Thank you, Sarah.” Peter replied, asking, “was there anything else?”
“I…I just want to say that I’m sorry for what happened…”
Peter hung up, he was needed, and he couldn’t afford to fall back into a spiral of depression now. His friend needed him.

“Absolutely not!” The Chief of Staff erupted across the desk at M, “He is not fit for duty! You have seen his psychological reports. He hasn’t even shown up to the therapy sessions that Dr. Lynch ordered him to attend. I cannot allow a mentally unstable agent into the field! Especially on such a delicate assignment!” His face was turning red; his fists balled up and embedded into the green leather atop the mahogany table.
M’s composure was normal; he was leaning back in his chair, looking into the Chief of Staffs green eyes. He pulled the handkerchief out of his suit’s jacket pocket and wiped his face clean from the spit that had flown from the Chief’s mouth in his rage. He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned forwards, clasping his hands together on the desk and looking up into the Chief’s eyes.
“I chose Stryker for this assignment as I feel that he deserves a chance to prove himself. Summers is his friend, he’s lost one person important to him this month, and he won’t lose another. We have protection against him suffering another mental breakdown; I’ve requested his friend from the CIA to come in as support. If this so-called “survivors guilt” kicks in, then admittedly we’ll have a problem, but I know Peter, he won’t submit to anything like that until the mission is over and he has recovered 002. The Dragonfire virus is only a secondary concern of mine at this moment in time. Our reports indicate that it is only a low risk problem, and our scientists say that there is little chance of it being such a danger to us at this moment in time. I mean, it’s being developed by a pharmaceutical company that makes drugs for over half the western world for Christ’s sake.” M was now the one spitting with his words, “I have thought this through, and I am pulling 009 off his vacation and putting him at the ready in case things should go balls up! So I have the situation under control!”


__________________


I'm not going there to die. I'm going there to see if I really am alive.
Check my Bio for my stories [Last Updated - 27th July 2008]

Old Post Apr 14th, 2007 08:45 PM
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SpikeSpiegel
Swimming Bird

Gender: Male
Location: United Kingdom

/4 “My dearest Dominique...”

Ryan Vignes stood in his office on the top floor of the Acorn Pharmaceuticals Head Office in Paris. He stood tall, with thick brown hair running down to his shoulders. A hand stroked his thin beard, as his head tilted from side to side as he admired the two small patches of grey that were forming at the sides of his lips. He was muscular, but not enough to disrupt the official aura he presented.

He had been born in 1959 to a French chef and his wife. He went to a good school and passed out at the top of his class. He then left to study abroad in England, where he studied languages. During his tenor away from home, his mother got sick. He returned home and worked diligently to find a cure when the doctors told him there was none. Unsuccessful, he watched as her condition worsened and his father began to fall into a spiral of depression that finally ended with him smothering his wife and throwing himself off of the hospital’s roof.
Ryan turned to drink, as so many do when they feel they have lost everything. He became angry with the world around him, and slept with a cheap harlot in an attempt to gain some pleasure out of the world. Shortly after this, he found that he was the father of a girl, born from one of these encounters. This revelation was enough to wake him up from his dream state.
It was then that he chose to sell his father’s restaurant and return to school to study medicine; he gave everything he could spare to provide for his daughter and her mother. Upon graduating, he used what money he had left to develop new forms of medication. His first creation was a new form of Paracetamol, which worked faster and better than any others on the market.
In 1984, his former lover had been killed in a random street killing, and his daughter came to live with him. By 1993, he was a millionaire, and had set up offices around the world, with factories dotted around France, where he could easily check on their production. He kept his daughter, Dominique, around. The desire to have a reminder of all he had lost, and all he had gained with him always.

Ryan turned away from the window, to face his daughter. She was sat in the chair opposite his desk, flicking through a folder. She turned the page, and without looking up said “Red or white roses?”
Ryan smiled a fatherly smile, “My dearest Dominique, this is the thing you should decide with your fiancé, not with your father...” He sat down in the large chair behind the desk and crossed his hands. “However, since you are asking me, I would say the red roses. They are the sign of love, and will nicely compliment your dress.”
Dominique smiled, “Thank you...” She looked away, embarrassed by what she was going to say next. “The truth is, we have discussed it...we’ve discussed everything...but...I just wanted to know...if you...approved...”
Ryan pushed himself into the back of his chair and barked a laugh. “Of course I approve. Martin is a wonderful man, he reminds me of myself when I was younger. He’s lost everything, and yet he’s never stopped fighting for what he believes in. He’s fought his way into my right hand, as my vice president, and into my heart as my soon to be son in law. Not only that, but I haven’t seen you as happy as you are with him since you were a child. So, of course I approve.”
Dominique smiled again, leaping up from her seat, and around the desk. Her arms flung themselves around her father as her eyes wept with joy. “Thank you, daddy, thank you...”
Ryan patted her back with his hand.
“Don’t mention it dear. Your happiness is what comes first for me, and soon the two of you have the business. There is just one small thing that I must finish first, and then all of our dreams will come true...” He pried her apart from himself, “...of that you can be sure...”


__________________


I'm not going there to die. I'm going there to see if I really am alive.
Check my Bio for my stories [Last Updated - 27th July 2008]

Old Post Jun 25th, 2007 12:47 PM
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